A Shot in the Dark
by niule
Summary: History links them more than they know. Probably more than they'd like, too. Eventual F!Courier/Boone
1. There's a sorrow in the wind

**Author's Note: **_I'm not good at these. It's been literally years since I wrote something for the general public so... Thanks for reading! Review if you so desire._

* * *

Riley was afraid, and she had every right to be.

She stood, one among dozens of other captives, fifth in line. They were positioned so they had a perfect view of the platform outside Aurelius Phoenix' office. A perfect view so they could watch as each of them was auctioned off.

She had been at Cottonwood Cove for a while now. She'd lost count of the days but she put a loose guess around two weeks. The thought was oddly humbling, to think that so much could change in so little time. Two weeks? Two weeks since she and her partner were ambushed south of Searchlight while on a simple scouting mission. It was stupid of them to let down their guard, to ignore the warning signs. Stupid of her to think they were invincible because of red berets.

They had paid the price for it. Noah more than her. The image of him up on that cross was enough to break her after a few days in the camp. They made sure of that, bringing her out every few hours to stand in front of him while he suffered. If she cried or tried to fight, he was rewarded with lashes. She stopped on the second day. She should have stopped on the first.

Noah had died on the fifth.

Two weeks. Two weeks of little food, sparse water. Two weeks of abuse at the hands of her captors. Sometimes, when they grew bored of abuse, their interests took a different turn, and women were dragged from the cage.

Riley had been chosen only once. She had fought and kicked and screamed and bitten, and only because there wasn't anyone left they could punish for her disobedience. She was wrong about that, too. Another captive was chosen, and was, according to the officers, far more compliant, and they began taking her more often. The girl was new to the camp, only a few days, but they had broken her quickly. She left and returned with dead eyes each time, her once pretty features slowly drawing into tense hollows.

At first, Riley was grateful. _Better her than me._ But, seeing her slowly deteriorate over the days and knowing it was because of her was gut-wrenching. She was army. The girl was civilian. The creed of 'protect the innocent' still applied in captivity, didn't it? She had failed.

The girl was ahead of her in line now, and Riley felt a ridiculous urge to apologize to her. Something snide in the back of her head asked her what good would that accomplish now?

It hadn't helped Noah.

Riley shook herself, bringing herself back out of her wallowing. Up on the platform, a middle-aged woman was being auctioned off. She stood, shaking. Her hair was clean, her face free of dirt. Like the rest of them, she was forced to bathe that morning. Under heavy scrutiny and leering eyes, guns with safeties off and dogs on loose leashes if they had any notions of running, they all stripped and bathed the grime from their bodies so as to be 'presentable' for bidders.

Most of the captives, Riley included, actually took great joy in it – it being the first time they'd felt clean in weeks. Her blonde hair shone in the sun, her skin and nails free of dirt. Their captors had even been so generous as to give everyone freshly cleaned clothes.

Aurelius Phoenix called out something in Latin, and the woman was stripped of those clothes. She was made to parade twice, back and forth, and told to spin once. She did as they said, finishing with a lamely executed turn. Auctioning began.

Riley didn't understand what Legion coin was worth, but the woman sold for five Aurei.

One by one they were led up to be sold. A man sold for three Aurei. A child after him for eight. _Longevity_, Aurelius kept selling. Next was the girl. Riley took a shaky breath, watching as the girl she doomed with her defiance allowed her clothes to be removed.

Her blood froze as the girl made her slow walk across the platform, eyes focusing on the small bump between her hips. Bile rose in her mouth as guilt mounted.

"Starting bid of ten Aurei!" Aurelius announced. "Hale and healthy, and a proven breeder. Do I hear ten?"

"Ten!"

A bidding war started. It didn't help that the girl was pretty. 'The girl'. Riley had no name for her. Most of the captives hadn't wanted to bond. Those that came in alone often stayed that way.

The girl lowered her head and began to shake, her fear renewed while men bid for the right to have her. Bids went up to twenty, and Riley fought not to cry while she watched the girl slowly break down on the stage.

She couldn't watch anymore. She looked away, instead focusing on the cliffs surrounding the Cove. For the hundredth time she cursed the bottleneck entrance to the area, cursed the cliffs above them. If she had any sort of opening for escape at all, she wouldn't take it. Not that way.

Bids hit twenty-five and Riley shut her eyes, just in time to hear the crack of gunfire echo across the canyon. Her head snapped up, frantically looking for the source. Instead, her eyes fell on the stage. The girl stood, eyes wide, for a mere second. Blood blossomed and poured down her left breast, and then she crumpled to the ground.

Riley stared. Around her, a growing commotion sounded in her ears as Legion soldiers sprang into action. She was shoved aside and back as they tried to find the shooter, and it took her a few moments before she realized that in the panicked disruption and the rush to fortify the camp, none of them had thought to watch the remaining slaves. They were forced back towards the shoreline, many of the slaves took to hiding behind buildings, afraid of being the next target.

What sort of gunman targeted unarmed slaves?

She felt something stir within her as more and more Legionaries left the general area. On auction day, slaves weren't required to wear the collar or be bound, because it made stripping them more difficult. The path to the river was free. She could swim. She'd always been a strong swimmer. But would her weakened state let her make it?

She swallowed. Noah would have wanted her to get away.

Seconds ticked by. She was losing her window. Blood pooled and dripped off the platform. She couldn't save the girl. She couldn't save Noah.

She could save herself.

She ran.


	2. Blowing down the road I've been

Cognition was slow. Painful. She didn't understand why everything _hurt_ and when she tried focusing on the pain to figure out the source it became unbearable, and she slipped back into unconsciousness gratefully.

Her memories were disjointed, replaying in continuous, cruel cycles. She dreamt she was back in basic, laughing with squadmates, having competitions at the shooting range. She remembered being called into her commanding officer's tent and the offer laid out on the table for her.

"We're recommending you for First Recon," he said. She could still see his expression, proud and commending. "Barring that, we'd also like you to consider joining up with the Rangers, but the choice is yours. We don't want to see your talent wasted."

She'd chosen First Recon. Her parents, had they been alive, would have been proud. But she didn't last long. The Legion saw to that. She was a courier by the year's end, falling back on her old job.

She remembered Noah. His easy, slow drawl and the way he'd laugh at her lame jokes. She could see the way his eyes watched her as he taught her how to construct a hide, how his smile reached every part of his face as he told her she did a good job and ruffled her hair like a child. And then he was up on the cross and she was on her knees trying not to cry and he was talking to her in hoarse whispers about what she was supposed to do. The blood dripped down his face in timed succession to the dirt below and she focused on that instead of the Legionnaires behind her with the whip.

She dreamt often of Cottonwood, remembering and replaying her escape. She remembered the water, cool and pressing, as she swam for her freedom. She remembered refusing to look over her shoulder as she swam, a steady mantra of _just keep going_ repeating in her head.

_If they shoot me I don't want to see it coming._

And suddenly she was staring into the barrel of a 9mm, shaking and bound and angry in the coldness of the night, the lights of New Vegas a blaring backdrop to her demise. Cold eyes above her, talking to her about bad luck, rigged games. She remembered a grave – _her _grave – that they had considerately dug for her.

She dreamt of the girl up on the podium, crying and pretty and pregnant.

She heard the gunshot. The girl was falling.

She heard the gunshot. Riley was falling.

* * *

Riley stood over her grave, staring down at the 10mm in her hand balefully. It wasn't her gun, and it was in shit condition with maybe twenty rounds, but it was what was found with her, and all she had for a weapon now besides her combat knife. Her guns were long gone, probably taken by the Khans and the man in the checkered suit, along with the chip she was supposed to deliver.

_That_ pissed her off - not that they had taken the chip and ruined a perfectly comfy job _and_ shot her in the head - but they had stolen her _guns. _There was just no accounting for rudeness like that.

The sun scorched the air above her, making her sigh and tug at the Vault jumpsuit irritably. The fabric felt weird on her skin. Despite what Doc Mitchell said, she highly doubted she was the same size as his wife. The suit stretched uncomfortably across her chest and she had the feeling that if she moved with any sort of force or speed she'd tear the living hell out of it.

That was what she needed, to be caught in the middle of the desert with a piece of shit weapon and clothes that tore if she needed to run. Although truth be told she had been in shittier conditions and came out alright, hadn't she?

She holstered the ratty weapon and focused her attentions instead on the device on her wrist. She fiddled with dials and knobs, cycling through menus while the screen gave her read-outs on her physical condition and inventory. Another turn of a dial gave her a map of the Mojave and she scrolled through it, contemplating her options.

She needed to get to New Vegas, that much she knew from what Trudy told her about her attackers. According to the map, there was a road that led north out of town that she could take straight there, safer southern route be damned. If there was anything she knew how to do and do well besides shoot, it was how to move quietly. She wagered she could make it to New Vegas safely on this route if she was careful. Her attackers had days for a head start, so any shortcuts she could take, she should, right?

No, it wasn't smart. It was a risk, and a risk she was willing to take, but no, it was not smart at all. She needed to get her guns back. She needed to shoot that checkered asshole in the head. And she needed to get that chip back, if that was even still an option.

All of these things were on her to-do list. Not necessarily in that order; she wasn't picky. She lowered her arm and turned back towards the town, dirt crunching beneath her boots.

But first, she needed a drink.

* * *

Boone stared at the drink in his hand. He'd been nursing the bottle of scotch since he got off shift, and that was well over four hours ago. He sat there in his darkened apartment, like he had countless other days, getting shitfaced drunk off whatever liquor Cliff had in stock. It was easier to forget that way.

Usually.

The burn of the scotch had slowed and cooled by now and his thoughts had done the same. Small streams of sunlight made it through the boarded up windows, but he didn't care enough to get up and throw a sheet over them. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him to go to sleep – that he needed his rest for his usual shift later at nine.

Something else in the back of his mind, something darker that he'd given half an ear to on occasion, told him other things. Like how there wasn't any point in protecting this shithole for a town. How he should leave, do what he always wanted to do, and take out as many Legion sons-of-bitches as he could before the inevitable.

Sometimes his thoughts wandered to his sidearm and how easy it would be to just end it all right there. Right there in Jeannie May's motel. Or maybe up in the god damn dinosaur. Give Manny a farewell present for being such a fucking stand-up friend.

Asshole.

But he couldn't, he reasoned as he poured himself another glass. Couldn't and wouldn't. He owed it to Carla to get her justice before he got his. It had been a year since Cottonwood, and he was still waiting. It didn't matter how long it took.

Karma was, as he'd always believed, a patient bitch.

* * *

She'd taken the risk and it had paid off. Sort of. Getting to New Vegas hadn't turned out to be a problem.

No, scratch that; it had been a huge fucking disaster. So let's say it had been successful, but disastrously so. The cazadore nest she had to sneak by wasn't too much of an issue, it was the bitch in the trailer park with her horde of mangy dogs chasing her halfway to Freeside that made her wish she'd taken the southern route. She had managed to lose them in one of the abandoned warehouses, ducking in through a jimmied door and climbing up to the rafters. She stayed there, breathing deep and long, listening quietly to the dogs howl and bark as they circled the warehouse. An hour passed before she was confident enough to venture out again, her muscles screaming from the adrenaline and strain.

To top that off, her earlier predictions about the condition of the Vault suit turned out to be correct. It had torn almost completely up the right side during her panicked flight and left her barely decent.

Luckily - and she used that word loosely - a drugged up hobo with a lead pipe attacked her mere moments after entering Freeside. It wasn't the attack that was lucky, nor was it the fact that her ratty 10mm jammed when she took aim. Nor was it was her using the gun as a blunt object to beat the man unconscious.

No, it was the fact that a member of the Kings had seen it all and, thankfully, found it funny as hell.

"You're actually laughing at this?" She asked him incredulously. Standing there, in a torn suit with her underwear exposed and an unconscious hobo at her feet, she was failing to see the humour in her predicament. Then again, she was the one with her underwear exposed. She watched as the finely coiffed man tried to contain his laughter.

"I'm sorry, honey. Oh, sweet Jesus I ain't never seen- you should see what you look like!" He took a few steps towards her, hands clutching at his side. She contemplated, briefly, making it two-for-two knock-outs in the same five minutes, but opted not to when he fell to his knees in hysterics. She would just end up feeling bad.

Instead, she rolled her eyes and holstered her useless weapon. "I have had-" she took a deep breath, "a very bad day."

The man pushed himself to his feet, grinning. "And you look it, pretty lady." His laughter subsided, tears still his eyes, and he held out his hand. "Come on, you broke the monotony of my day and took out a troublesome member of the Freeside community. Let me buy you a drink."

She eyed him dubiously. "Really?"

"I'm a King, baby. Ain't nothing gonna happen to you in Freeside with a King at your side. Supposed to charge you 100 caps for an escort, but hell. I'm feeling generous." He nodded at his hand when she hesitated. "I ain't gonna bite ya."

She blew out a breath. Hell, why not?

She shook his hand. "Riley."

His smile grew. "Tanner. Now come on, pretty lady. It's getting dark and you need a place to stay."

He took her to the Wrangler. Riley shifted nervously beside him while he talked to a woman at the counter about a favour owed, uncomfortably aware of a multitude of eyes on her and her wardrobe malfunction. The lobby was filled with patrons and reeked of spilled beer and cigarettes. On stage, a ghoul heckled to a distracted crowd. In the back, the sound of chips clinking and cards shuffling piqued her interests, but not enough to move away from Tanner. She kept her arm plastered to her side, trying in vain to keep the folds of cloth together so she was covered.

"Come on," Tanner tugged on her elbow and she followed him up the stairs. The din of the lobby faded as he led her into a room in the corner and her back went up, suddenly very much aware of how little space she had to move in. Tanner seemed to realize this and eyed her with amusement, his tongue working at a toothpick as he closed the door. She backed away from him.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, sister. I called in a favour with the Garrets. The room's yours for the night."

"Oh," she looked around, frowning faintly. "Thank you."

"Now about your clothes," he rubbed at his chin as he moved towards her, sizing her up. "Where'd you get that outfit? You from the Vault hotel on the Strip?"

"What? No. It was given to me. I had an..." she rolled her eyes while she tried to think of a word to explain her situation. "I had an _altercation_ and most of my stuff was stolen. Doc who fixed me up gave me the suit. '_For modesty_,'" she quoted.

"Uh-huh. Okay. That worked out well." He smiled lopsidedly. "I'm gonna go out and grab something with less holes in it for you and I'll be right back."

"Wait, wait, wait." She held up her hands, waving them a little frantically. "Why?" She wanted to know. "Why are you doing this?"

"I'm a King. Freeside's ours to protect."

"Yeah, but I doubt it's yours to clothe and shelter," she pointed out. Tanner shrugged.

"No pretty lady, it's not. I think that's the Followers' job. But the image of you fighting off a hobo in your underwear and a ratty suit will stay with me till the day I die. And I guess I figured I should thank you for it." He winked at her once, and left the room.

In his absence, Riley blew out a breath and let herself plop down onto the bed. She ran her fingers over the frayed ends where the suit tore and shook her head bemusedly, the day's events running through her head. Ever since Cottonwood, she'd always considered herself lucky. Now she was having a hard time trying to figure if the last twenty-four hours was an argument for or against that opinion.

She opted for the former, seeing as she was still alive.

"Thank you, Doc Mitchell, for giving me this piece of shit outfit."


	3. I can hear it cry

**Author's Note: **_Thank you all for reading/reviewing! I'm sorry it's a rather slow start to the story. As always, review if you so desire!_

* * *

"You were shot in the _head_?" Tanner gaped at her from across the table. His gaze lifted to above her face, trying to find the evidence. They were in the bar of the Wrangler, Tanner following up on his offer for a drink. Riley - now sporting actual clothes in the form of cargo pants and a vest, courtesy of her new friend - took a swig of her beer and lifted a hand to ensure her hair was still covering the little bald patch where Doc Mitchell had done his needlework.

"Told you I was having a bad day. Though, I guess technically that happened a few days ago," she shrugged.

"So what are you doing here?" he asked.

"Having a drink."

"Funny. I meant in Vegas."

She gave a half-laugh with her drink at her lips. "I was told the guy who shot me came here. Not really sure where to start looking, now that I think about it." She sat back in her chair, brows furrowed while she thought on that a bit more. "Actually now that I _really_ think about it, I have no idea what I'm doing here. I have nothing to go on, not even a name."

Tanner rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. "You get a look at the guy?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" She demanded. "Of course I did. I sat there for half an hour while they dug my god damn grave, didn't I?"

He lifted his hands defensively. "Sorry. Just wanted to know if any of them had ties with any gangs."

She blinked. "Oh. Uh. Bunch of them were Khans. Got the impression they were hired help."

"Well there you go. Something to work with."

She sighed. "Sorry for snapping at you. I guess I'll head into the Strip tomorrow. See what I can dig up on any of this."

"Uh-huh," Tanner leaned forward in his chair, his eyes patronizing and gleaming while a slow smile spread across his face. "Tell me, pretty lady. How you plan on doing that?"

She rolled her eyes. "I thought I'd try asking quest-"

"No no. Getting into the Strip."

She frowned. "Uh. I thought I'd try walking?"

"You do that," he sat back and gestured towards her with his beer and that cocky smile still plastered on his face, "and you're going to have a few more holes to go with the one in your head."

Her eyebrows went up. "Meaning?"

"Meaning, the Securitrons guarding the gates don't take too kindly to vagrants trying to get in without the proper 'credentials'. And you, pretty lady, don't have those from what I've seen. Hell, you barely had clothes."

The hell was that supposed to mean? "I'm a courier. I had a delivery-"

"Which you lost. They won't let you in without whatever it was you were supposed to deliver."

Okay. That was a good point. Not to mention it had been over a year since she had stepped foot onto the Strip, and back then she was still with the NCR and so had access to the monorail. She had never entered the Strip via Freeside before.

She gnawed on her bottom lip and Tanner's lopsided smirk grew. She sighed. "Alright. What do I need to get in?"

"Passport."

She threw her hands up. "I don't have one anymore. They took _everything_."

He sat up straighter. "You had one before? How'd you get one?"

"Stint with the army."

He was quiet for a second. "NCR?"

Something about the way he said it made Riley narrow her eyes. "Yeah. Why?"

He shook his head. "Nothin'. Forget about it. Look, no passport, then you need cold, hard cash. Two thousand caps. Minimum."

Her mouth fell open. "Are you shitting me? Where am I going to come up with that sort of money?"

He shrugged. "Guess you better find yourself a job. You could try robbing someone, just don't do it in Freeside. Don't wanna have to shoot you."

"Thanks so much."

"Anytime, pretty lady." He finished his beer and stood with a regretful sigh. "Well, I better get back to my patrol. You find me if you need something and keep your door locked tonight." He turned on his heel, took one step, stopped, and turned back towards her. "And try to keep your clothes in one piece."

She shook her head with a wry smile. "Cute. Thanks for these, by the way."

He lifted a hand in a farewell gesture and then he was gone.

* * *

She found Tanner again in the morning, near where the hobo attacked her. Said hobo was nowhere to be found, so she assumed he was still kicking around somewhere.

Tanner watched her approach from his position against a wall, noting her grimace and slumped shoulders. He stared up at the morning sky and shook his head with a disbelieving laugh. "You tried the gates, didn't you? After I told you it wouldn't work."

"Shut up." She slumped against the wall beside him. "Where can I find a job around here?"

"I don't know," he turned his head to look at her. "What can you do?"

"Anything."

He lifted a single brow. "Let's not be modest now."

She sighed. "I meant I'll _do_ almost anything."

"There's a brothel in Westside-"

"Anything but _that_," she narrowed her eyes. He grinned.

"Just thinking of all them poor folk who haven't seen your underw- hey!" He rubbed his arm where she punched him and glared at her. "You're stronger than you look."

"Keep mentioning my underwear, Tanner, and you'll find out just how strong."

He shook his head, laughing. "Look, do what you know. You're a courier. Crimson Caravan might have mail that needs delivering that don't follow their usual routes. Try there."

She considered that for a second. "Maybe I will. Look, can I ask you something? It's been bugging me."

"Shoot."

"Last night, when I said I was NCR, you reacted like it was the wrong thing to say."

He huffed out a breath and looked away. She waited patiently while he removed the toothpick from his mouth, rolled it between his fingers. Finally, he shook his head.

"Nothing gets by you, does it?"

"I'd like to think not."

"Listen. You have to understand something," he gestured at her with the toothpick in hand, his voice lowered. "Not everyone here appreciates the NCR in the Mojave. Especially in Freeside. I might have been able to get you into the Strip for cheaper, but now I'm not sure I can."

She frowned. Okay, yeah. She knew that the NCR had a bad reputation with certain groups. It was part of the reason she didn't make deliveries in any NCR markings, regardless of where her allegiance stood. She didn't see what that had to do with getting her a better deal on an in to the Strip.

"How would you get me in for cheaper?"

He shook his head. "Can't say. Look," he continued when she opened her mouth to complain, "I can't. This could get the Kings in a lot of shit with the NCR, and I can't be responsible for that."

"I'm not going to rat you out," she exclaimed, appalled. He held up his hands.

"I barely know you and I can't take that risk. I'm sorry." He sighed. "Look, give me a few days to think about it. Maybe I'll get you an audience with the King and we can work something out. It doesn't matter anyhow right now since you're broke."

She folded her arms, trying not to look bitter. "Which King?"

"_The_ King, baby. The boss-man himself." He gave a small smile, but it was nowhere near his usual cockiness. She nodded, resigned to leave the subject alone for now.

"Okay. I guess I'll try the Crimson Caravan. See you in a bit."

The Crimson Caravan were, conveniently, just outside Freeside. Riley took the short walk there and wasn't assaulted once. She considered the day a mild success.

Inside the main compound, she was directed to one Alice McLafferty. The office was dark, quiet, and Alice, who Riley doubted had ever cracked so much as a smile in her entire life, had work for her.

"Deliver this to Dr. Hildern at Camp McCarran, we'll see what we can do after that if you don't mess it up," Alice held out an envelope and Riley eyed the woman.

"Can I ask how much-"

"Hundred and fifty. Now go or I'll get someone else to do it."

Bitch. Riley snatched the enveloped out of her hand and stomped out of the building. McCarran was an easy walk; she knew the compound like the back of her hand. Riley made the delivery, muttering about the sand in McLafferty's vagina the entire way. She was back before noon, and could barely work up a smile as Alice handed her her pay.

"Do you have anything else for me?"

"You've proven yourself competent. Ungrateful, but competent." Alice leaned back in her chair and brought her hands up in front of her in a contemplative motion as she sized Riley up. Riley tried not to glare. "Fortunately, I don't require your gratitude, only your services. I might have something else for you, if you're interested."

"If the caps are right."

"Dealings with a smaller caravan company. I want to buy them out. Problem is the owner, Cass, is currently at the NCR Outpost. I need you to go there and present my terms." She swivelled in her chair, removing a set of keys from her pocket. She unlocked a drawer in her desk and removed a single folder. She laid it out in front of Riley. "You come back with her signature, you'll get paid an even five hundred."

Riley's eyebrows shot up. That was a pretty sum, indeed, and a good chunk towards her Vegas fund.

"Come back without it," McLafferty added, "and you get nothing. Agreed?"

She bit her lip, thinking. A trip to the Outpost would take maybe two days, depending, and that wasn't counting the trip back. Add to that the fact that she still only had her piece-of-shit 10mm for a weapon and this was an incredibly risky five hundred caps.

But it was _five hundred caps_.

She grabbed the folder. "Deal."


	4. While shadows steal the sun

**Author's Note: **_You know what, I knocked this one out pretty damn quick, so here you go. Thanks again for reading~_

* * *

"I mean, it's not like I really can't handle a gun if I had to. So long as it's the right type. Like, take energy weapons. There's no surprise recoil and the aiming is so much more precise. Plus, have you seen anything break down to ashes instantaneously before? Much easier to clean up!"

Riley glanced sideways at the girl walking beside her, wondering if she talked this much normally or if this was a nervous tick. She had picked her up earlier that day after leaving Freeside, having stocked up on what she could afford at Mick & Ralph's with her meagre pay from McLafferty. Tanner, unfortunately, was nowhere to be found for a goodbye, so she left a message with a random King to pass along and then set out of Vegas, taking the 95 South. She didn't feel particularly keen on retracing her original path back to Goodsprings.

She met Veronica at the 188, her infectious smile and cheerful personality endeared her to Riley almost immediately, and they struck up a conversation over a late lunch. The girl was Brotherhood, though, and Riley was still wondering if bringing her along was wise while she babbled on.

"You don't talk a lot, do you?" Veronica asked after a while. Riley spared her a smile.

"Hard to get a word in with you."

Veronica laughed. "Sorry. I just don't get to talk to a whole lot of people, you know? I usually travel alone and, frankly? It sucks. So hey, thanks for taking me along."

"No problem," Riley kicked idly at a rock, watching as it skipped and bounced off the pavement. "Gotta admit it's nice, having someone to travel with."

"So what are we doing out here, anyway?"

"I'm heading to the NCR Outpost," Riley explained. "Doing a job for the Crimson Caravan." She stopped in her tracks. "Uh, is that okay? I know the Brotherhood and NCR have had... an _interesting_ history." She frowned at her companion and Veronica grinned.

"I won't go on a murdering rampage, if that's what you're worried about. Really, I wouldn't mind seeing more of the NCR, anyways."

"Thinking of joining up?" Riley teased, continuing their leisurely pace. "Forlorn Hope is close by, you know."

"Oh yeah, I'd bet they'd be _thrilled_ to take me in," Veronica laughed beside her. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Ever think of joining the army?"

"Been there, done that," she sighed. "Almost died."

Her eyes narrowed as her gaze focused on a building they were coming up on. An old gas station, abandoned, sat derelict in the sand. There didn't look to be anyone around, but, oddly, a fire was going. She could see the smoke spiralling up, disappearing in wispy patterns.

"Wow. Really? That sounds like quite the stor-"

"Wait," Riley hissed, grabbing on to Veronica's arm. The Scribe froze, glancing around cautiously.

"What?"

"Did you see something move up there?" She pointed and Veronica's eyes followed her finger. They stood there for a few seconds, quiet, while they focused hard on the building in front of them.

"I don't see anything," Veronica whispered. Riley dropped her hand, frowning.

"Let's go around. Just in case."

"What?" Veronica looked offended at the mere idea of avoiding it. "Why not go in and loot the place?"

"What?"

"Did I use big words?"

"No. I meant, like, why?"

"For caps? For food? For teddy bears? Come on, you can find _loads_ of cool things in abandoned places. I do it all the time."

Riley glanced back and forth between Veronica and the gas station. She had never really looked into prospecting as a profession, but that was the idea, wasn't it? Find old world locations and loot them, sell the findings? She glanced back at Veronica.

"Really?"

"Why not?"

Riley folded her arms, considering. "I _do_ need money," she admitted. Veronica nodded eagerly and she caved. "Okay, fine. But I swear I saw something move, so go in carefully, okay?" She drew her gun and her knife, adjusting her grip of each so that her knife-hand was supporting her gun-hand. She looked woefully at the gun, but shook her head; no use complaining about it now. She nodded at Veronica.

"Follow my lead."

They moved in quickly, ducking behind a boulder as they got closer. Riley peeked around the rock; the fire was only a few feet away, various cardboard and matting spread around it in makeshift beds. No one in sight, however. She shifted, and motioned for Veronica to follow as she ran to the side of the building.

"There's no one-"

"Shhh!" Riley hissed, holding up a hand. She listened, hearing only the wind of the desert and the occasional caw of a raven. She glanced around the corner of the building, but after a few moments of seeing nothing even remotely threatening, she relaxed.

"You probably saw a bird, or a gecko," Veronica suggested, patting her consolingly on the back.

"Doesn't explain the fire," Riley replied, turning. She froze, catching sight of a man approaching Veronica from behind with a tire iron. Her eyes widened.

"Behind you!" she lifted her gun, but it wasn't necessary. Veronica whirled, dust flying up around her as she simultaneously dropped her sack and shifted into a fighting stance. She blocked his swing with her powerfist, his hand hitting the metal instead, and he cried out, dropping his weapon. He staggered back, wincing, shaking his injured hand.

He didn't think to duck when Veronica threw her next punch.

The resulting squelching crunch was enough to put Riley off food for the rest of the day. She moved forward, standing over the body with Veronica. She gagged and averted her gaze.

"Where's his head?" She choked.

"Oh, around," came the nonchalant reply. "He wasn't a gecko. Guess you were right."

"And I guess you two need to learn to watch your backs," the voice came from behind them. They turned slowly. The woman aiming the gun at them licked her lips while she shifted anxiously. Riley noted her shaking hands, the wild look in her eyes, and moved so she was standing in front of Veronica.

"If you want money, I have none," Riley said slowly, raising her hands. Well, no, that wasn't true. She had 30 caps left, but she also didn't want to tempt the girl into pulling the trigger.

"If I wanted money, I'da shot you already."

Riley waited. The girl did nothing.

"So... what do you want then?"

"That was my brother!" she screamed. Riley rolled her eyes.

"Well, you should have told your brother that running at two armed women with nothing but a tire iron was going to get his ass killed."

"Stand there. Just stand still! I got more peop-"

Gunfire erupted right next to Riley's eardrum. She jerked her head away, cursing and wondering where the hell Veronica found a god damn gun. She noted in the process that Veronica's shots went wide of the raider. Extremely wide, actually, but it was enough to startle the girl. She ducked wildly, dropping her gun and raising her hands defensively. Riley wasted no time in raising her own gun and pulling the trigger. A shot rang out and the raider fell to the ground.

Riley stared. "Holy shit," she breathed. She couldn't believe her luck. The gun actually fired! "Jesus Christ," she swore again with a laugh.

"Viper?" Veronica wondered. She was standing by the girl, nudging her body with the toe of her boot. Riley wandered over to join her.

"Has to be. Jackals don't come this far east," she holstered her gun with shaky hands and slid her knife back into the sheath strapped around her thigh.

"Nice shot, by the way."

"I told you I couldn't use guns well," Veronica pouted. "I never use it."

"Maybe you'd shoot better if you used it more," Riley knelt down and started rummaging through the girl's pockets, picking out various things. Handfuls of NCR money – probably stolen- along with fifteen caps, a box of 10mm bullets, and... oddly, a single carrot.

She pocketed it all.

"You don't waste time, do you?" Veronica remarked.

"You were the one-" Riley grunted as she rolled the body over so she could get to the gun the girl had fallen on. "-who said we should loot abandoned places. She so happens to be at an abandoned place."

"True, true. It's not like she's going to need it anymore anyway."

It was a .44 magnum. Riley stood, holding the gun in her hands while a slow smile spread across her face. She turned it over, aimed down the sights. It felt good, and the condition seemed sound. Then she spun the cylinder. She stared for a second, and then laughed.

"That fucking bitch," she shook her head disbelievingly. She looked up at Veronica's confused expression and angled the gun so she could see it. "Gun was empty. She was bluffing."

"Well, that explains that," Veronica dusted her clothes off idly. "I was thinking she had to be the worst raider in the history of raiders."

"Given the evidence I'd say you're not far off from the truth. Come on," Riley tucked her new gun into the back of her belt and bent down, gripping the dead girl under the arms. "Help me move her." Veronica grabbed hold of her legs and together they carried the body behind the building. They did the same with the girl's brother, dumping him next to his sister's body, sans head.

"Not taking the clothes?" Veronica asked when they were done.

Riley grimaced; the idea of stripping a corpse was not exactly appealing. "Uh... why? You see anything you want?"

"Unless she's hiding a classy dress on her somewhere, no. But you could sell the clothes."

"So this is what you do?" Riley asked, wrinkling her nose. "As a 'procurement specialist'? Wander around the desert, leaving a trail of naked corpses wherever you go?"

"Hey, a girl's gotta eat," Veronica said defensively. "Food costs caps. Clothes sell for caps. Don't be picky."

Riley glanced up at the sun, dipping low in the sky. She bit her lip. "How about... we're short on sunlight so we'll leave the stripping corpses lesson for another day? Okay? Sound good? Great." She turned and started walking towards the road.

"Awww, you're squeamish! That's so adorable!" Veronica laughed. Riley turned back around.

"I am not! I just... _we_ just don't have the time. We need to find a place for the night." It was a lie, she knew exactly where they could stay the night; Novac wasn't far. Looting the bodies was one thing, and something she could easily get behind. Ammo was a commodity that you did not take for granted in the wasteland, after all. But stripping dead people of their clothes? She had to admit a certain degree of discomfort over the idea.

Plus it just sounded like a lot of work.

"Her clothes would probably sell for about fifty caps. His... maybe ten," Veronica pointed out casually.

Ten minutes later Riley was stuffing the clothes into her rucksack. Veronica stood by and waited, trying to contain a smile while she bounced back on the balls of her feet. The brother and sister raider duo were laid out in their underwear, propped up on the side of the gas station. Riley sighed, grimacing as she stared down at them. The only fact that had made her relent was simple: it was sixty caps she wouldn't have to earn from that bitch, McLafferty.

"Christ, if my C.O. could see me now," Riley muttered as she swung her bag onto her shoulder. "Come on, let's check inside and then we're getting the hell out of here."

"Yes ma'am!"


	5. But I cannot look back now

**Author's Note: **_Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing! This chapter did not want to work with me _**_at all, _**_and went through multiple rewrites. :( So I want to thank my friend, Kay, for reading all my crap and helping me brainstorm ideas. :3 As always, review if you like!_

* * *

It was nearing nightfall when Boone stepped outside his room. He leaned against the railing that served no purpose that he could see other than decorative and pulled the worn pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. He tugged one out of the pack and lit it, flicking the match away while he took a nice long drag.

He didn't know why he still smoked outside. It had been Carla's rule, back when she was still alive and pregnant. She routinely kicked him out the moment he started rifling around for his pack, declarations of _it's bad for the baby_ not far behind. He had humoured her, obeying the no-smoking-in-the-house rule, even when she wasn't in it. Not wanting to jeopardize the health of his child even a little, it seemed like a simple thing.

Since he had put a bullet through her heart, it all seemed so pointless in hindsight.

Across the courtyard, Ranger Andy stepped out from his bungalow. He gave a cursory glance around, but his gaze settled on Boone and he began to slowly limp his way over. Boone sighed and stabbed the cigarette out on the railing. So much for that.

"Boone," Andy nodded in greeting as he approached.

"Andy."

"Was wondering if you had a minute."

Too many.

"Sure. What do you need?"

Andy rolled his shoulders languidly, as if he was working up to something. Boone resisted the urge to sigh because he knew what was coming, and whether or not he'd like nothing more than to just be left _alone_, this was Andy, and Andy was probably the only person in this town who gave a shit when Carla disappeared. So, Boone simply waited.

"Well, let's start with the easy things," Andy decided. "See anything unusual on watch lately? I know I mentioned the McBride's problem to you last week, but they lost another brahmin the other night and they're getting mighty uneasy."

"Saw nothing, no," Boone shook his head. "I hear gunfire every now and then, but that's pretty normal."

Andy nodded. "Well, if you could keep an ear and eye out in their direction, I'd appreciate it."

"Sure." He lifted a shoulder as if to say it wasn't a problem.

"Talked to Cliff today," Andy mentioned conversationally. Boone's jaw tensed. _Here it comes._

"Yeah?"

"He mentioned you bought out his liquor supply again."

Christ. "Okay."

Andy sighed. "You can't keep doing this Boone. You think I don't see what you're doing to yourself?" He rubbed the back of his neck. Boone said nothing. "Carla wouldn't want to see you like this."

He clenched his fists in front of him, staring at them hard so he could remain calm. "I'm fine, Andy."

"Now excuse an old man for saying so, but that's a load of bullshit. You sit in that apartment every day, wasting away, getting drunk. If Carla-"

"I said I'm fine," Boone snapped. Andy sighed again, looking at him with those sad, pitying eyes. Boone cursed inwardly.

"Look," he pushed himself upright off the railing, "I appreciate the concern, Andy, but there's really nothing to worry about." He crossed his arms, trying to convey that this discussion was, as far as he was concerned, over. Andy stood silently for a few moments, as if weighing the pros and cons of continuing the conversation, before giving a relenting shake of his head.

"Alright. If you say so. But I'm here if you want to talk, son." He patted Boone once on the arm, tipping his hat in farewell. He turned, limping back to his bungalow, Boone watching quietly.

He needed to start smoking indoors.

* * *

"Dibs on first bath!" Veronica called out as they entered their room in Novac. Riley opened her mouth to complain but the Scribe had already dashed off across to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Riley stood there, frowning, feeling slightly indignant.

Well... fine then.

She pulled her rucksack off her shoulders and dropped it, the jingle of caps as it hit the floor making her smile. They had done well for themselves, she thought, pulling in close to four hundred caps for their findings. It helped that they had came across another group of poorly-equipped raiders on their trek to Novac. Veronica had handed Riley the gun she never used and together they made short work of them.

Riley even got to practice her corpse-stripping skills again. What fun.

The sound of water running from the bathroom reached her ears and she sighed, kicking her rucksack to the side of the bed. There was a fridge near the bathroom, stocked with liquor. She grabbed a beer and went outside. She didn't go far, just sat on the stairs that led up to their room, leaning her head against the railing while she watched the sky darken and stars appear.

It was lucky that they had reached town before the owner of the hotel had shut down for the night, having caught Jeannie May Crawford just as she was locking up. To be honest, though, Riley would have preferred skipping the hotel and sleeping outside to save on caps. So long as they were in a populated area, she felt safe. Plus, according to Jeannie May, Novac was protected day and night by snipers up in the dinosaur.

She felt a slight stirring inside her at that, like she always did whenever someone said 'sniper' in conversation. A sense of wanting to belong that welled up inside her and made old memories fresher.

She missed being in the army. She could admit to that easily. But what she missed about it was the camaraderie and the sense of accomplishment and pride and patriotism that came from a completed mission, a soldier rescued, a town liberated.

She did not miss being a constant target for Legion raiding parties. There was a reason why she had refused all jobs that led to Nelson or Searchlight or Forlorn Hope in the last year. Too far east, too thick with the threat of crimson while travelling the roads, and she couldn't - wouldn't - risk that while travelling alone.

The crack of gunfire sounded out in the darkness and her eyes flicked up to the dinosaur. Huh. She wondered what had gotten close enough. Molerat? More raiders?

She stared at the unopened beer in her hand, debating with herself the wisdom of going up to bug the nighttime sniper. What would she say?

_Hi, I see you're a sniper. I happen to be a sniper as well. Let us bask in the glow of our sniper-ness._

She snorted. Fuck it. She could wing it. She sat the beer down and pushed herself to her feet, taking the stairs down in quiet succession.

Cliff wasn't in his shop, which she found... incredibly stupid. More-so because he didn't lock the door. Then again maybe he just didn't expect anyone to come in and steal all his T-Rexes and coffee mugs and lunchboxes.

He'd be right.

She took the stairs up two at a time, stepping lightly, and then opened the door.

* * *

Boone had been entertaining the master of all headaches since his 'talk' with Andy, so when the door clicked shut behind him, when he hadn't even heard it open, his back went up. Nobody had ever come up to the nest at night. Nobody. Not once since he had moved to Novac. And _nobody_ in town could move that quietly.

He reacted instantly, and just like that, he had his surprise visitor up against the door, right hand at their throat, thumb pressing against their windpipe. He had spent all year since Carla died, all _year_ living in paranoia for this moment. Where had he gone wrong? Nobody knew that he knew the truth about Carla. Not Manny, not Andy. Nobody. What had he done to tip them off?

He dropped his rifle, and reached for his sidearm with his left hand. His attacker made a strangled sound of protest, clawing at his hand while they tried to breathe. When he pulled his gun out of its holster, their efforts redoubled and he grunted as he tried to keep them still.

His attacker adjusted their grip so their left hand grabbed his wrist, nails digging into his palm. Before he could do anything else, they turned their entire body to the side and his hold was broken. His wrist turned painfully in their grip and his balance fell off centre while he tried to compensate for the lack of support. He lifted his gun to fire and a knee met him in the face. He dropped his gun and reeled back, stunned. His attacker panted heavily from the shadows.

"Wh-" they began, and he only barely registered that the voice was female before he launched himself at her. They grappled clumsily for a few moments before his hands gripped her wrists. He frowned at finding the hunk of metal around one and slid his hands to her elbows instead. He slammed her back against the wall, using his full body to keep her pinned. If he had any doubts before, here - with his body pressed up against hers - they were vanquished. This was definitely a woman.

And _woman_ meant _not_ legion.

He wasn't stupid, it didn't mean 'not dangerous'. So, he kept her pinned.

She made a noise of disgust, a guttural growl of disdain and he felt her slam the back of her head against the door in frustration.

"What the _fuck _is your_ problem?_" she demanded.

"I could ask you the same," he growled. She made some indignant squawk and his confusion mounted.

"_You_ attacked _me_, idiot!"

"_You_ snuck up on me," he pointed out.

She laughed bitterly. "So it's shoot first, ask questions later? _Let me go."_

"Why should I?" he asked, voice lowered dangerously.

"Because if you don't, I'll scream rape," she said sweetly. His eyes narrowed.

Slowly, his body still tense and ready in case she decided to attack, he released his hold on her. She took a moment to rub her arms where he'd gripped her and he stepped back, forcing himself to regulate his breathing. Reaching up, he could feel blood dripping down his face and he cursed. Broken nose?

"Well," she said, pushing hair out of her face. "It was a _pleasure_ meeting _you_," she said scornfully, not even bothering to hide the contempt in her voice. He watched as she turned, opened the door, and stepped back inside. He expected her to slam the door, but instead she closed it quietly behind her, leaving Boone standing there confused, angry, and bleeding.

What the _hell_ just happened?


	6. Come too far to turn around

**Author's Note: **_Another quick one! Thank you again for the reviews, and I suppose I should also add the faves and alerts. :3 I appreciate every single one!_

* * *

"So you-"

"Kneed him in the face. Yup." She was sitting on her bed munching on a Fancy Lad Snack. Veronica sat cross-legged across from her, daisy fresh from her soak in the tub.

"Wow. You sure have a way with people," she said. "How come you didn't knee _me_ in the face when you met me? I wouldn't have minded an old fashioned tussle. I feel like I missed out on some prime action, here."

Riley snorted. "You didn't attack me the moment you met me. But if you want me to knee you in the face, I could totally do it."

Veronica laughed. "So they teach you hand-to-hand combat in the army? I thought they were all, you know, 'Rawr! Guns! Pew pew!'" she mimed shooting with her hands and Riley grinned.

"Nah. I mean, they teach a little, but you don't really focus on it, especially in sniping school. I learned about guns, obviously, and how to handle knives and grenades. Traps. That sort of thing."

"So where'd you learn it?"

"My mom. She was in the army too when she was younger," Riley shrugged. "She learned it from her dad though. My grandpa, I guess. Never met him. I don't know much, really. She taught me how to break holds and disable so I could get away, mostly. I probably wouldn't last two minutes against you."

"I could teach you how to punch," Veronica offered. Riley smiled.

"I could teach you how to shoot," she countered. Veronica made a face and they both laughed.

"I dunno," Riley said after a while, "it might actually be good to learn how. Let me think on it."

"Sure. No pressure or anything, just thought I'd throw it out there."

She stood up. "I'm gonna take a quick bath, and then we should probably turn in for the night."

"Who gets the bed?"

Riley frowned. "We both do? I don't mind sharing. Just don't kick me or anything and we're golden."

"Yes ma'am."

* * *

In the morning, they found Jeannie May immediately after waking up, intending to check out. The elderly woman was sweeping her office when Riley stepped in, Veronica behind her.

"Good morning, dearies! I hope you slept well," Jeannie May greeted them with a smile.

"Slept just fine, thanks. Wanted to thank you again for getting us in so late."

She waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, it was nothing. Did you tell Cliff I sent you like I told you?"

Riley smiled. "Yes ma'am. He was pretty good to us."

"Glad to hear it."

"Your nighttime sniper, by the way? Not very friendly."

"Boone? Oh that poor man just hasn't been the same since his wife left him," she said sadly. "I hope he didn't offend you none, he's had a hard time of it this past year. Don't hold it against him."

Riley considered telling Jeannie May the entire story, but something told her to just drop it. She wouldn't be seeing him again anyway, and she didn't see any immediate benefits in telling Jeannie that her nighttime sniper was fucking crazy and that she'd kneed him in the face.

"It's not important," she waved a hand. "We're leaving today, wanted to give you back the key."

"Oh, you're not staying?" Jeannie stopped sweeping, looking crestfallen, and Riley smiled.

"Sorry, but I've got a job to do."

"If you need work, there's plenty around here for you to do," Jeannie offered. Riley paused in handing over the key.

"There is?"

"Oh sure!" Jeannie started sweeping again. "You head on over to the McBride's, small little brahmin ranch on the west side of town. They'll have something for ya."

Riley looked at Veronica. She shrugged.

"You never said you were on a schedule, I don't see the harm."

"I- okay. Sure," she nodded, pocketing her key once more. "I'll do that. Thanks Jeannie May."

"Oh, anytime dear. Oh, before you go," she set her broom aside and moved behind the front counter, pulling out a small lunchbox from the shelves below. She placed it in Riley's outstretched hands. "Could you deliver this to Boone? I send him some fixin's every now and then, as a thank you for guarding our town."

Riley grimaced, staring down at the box as if it contained radioactive material. "Uh... I don't think-"

"I appreciate it, dearie, and I know he will too," she patted Riley kindly on the arm. "He's second last on the main floor. Run along now!"

Riley sighed.

Outside, Veronica nudged her. "Don't worry, champ. I'll protect you!"

"This is stupid, you do it," Riley shoved the lunchbox at her and Veronica held up her hands.

"Nope. I don't do deliveries. I punch things. You're the Courier, y_ou_ deliver things."

"I hate you so much right now," Riley muttered. Veronica grinned.

They stood outside Boone's door. Riley had her fist poised and raised, ready to knock. She was just... working herself up to it. When she hesitated for the third time, Veronica pounded on the door for her, earning herself an annoyed glare.

"What the-"

The door swung open, effectively cutting her off, and she jerked back a step out of reflex. Boone stood there, eyes hidden behind shades, blood still splattered on his shirt. His nose was slightly swollen, and he had a split lip. She felt a surge of pride, but when her eyes locked onto the beret on his head she froze. He wasn't just an ordinary sniper, he was-

"_What?"_ he demanded.

She realized she'd been staring, and she floundered for a minute with what to say.

"Wow, Riley, you sure did a number on him," Veronica said from beside her. Boone's gaze snapped to Riley and she swallowed. Well, now he knew who she was, at any rate.

"That was _you?_"

Hell with it.

"Yes. Me. How's your nose?" she asked. "Don't answer. I don't actually care. Here," she thrust out the lunchbox in front of her. "From Jeannie May."

He stared down at it, expression unreadable, then back up at her. She sighed and shook it slightly, hoping to entice him like a dog to a treat.

"No thanks," he said, and she could swear she almost detected a sneer behind his words. "I'm good."

She dropped her arm, annoyed. "You're really going to refuse free food because I broke your damn nose?"

"It's not broken. And no, I just don't accept anything from anyone in this town. Period."

"Why not?" Veronica asked.

"I just don't."

"They must be horrible cooks," Veronica said to Riley in a stage whisper, and she couldn't help but laugh. She stopped once she noticed Boone staring at her strangely. She coughed awkwardly.

"Okay then. Well. I will just tell Jeannie May that you... weren't awake and you can go back to- whatever it is you were doing. Nice seeing you again, thank you for not attacking me this time." She gave him a quick salute and turned on her heel, ushering Veronica away.

"He didn't seem that dangerous," Veronica said once they were out of earshot. Riley risked a glance over her shoulder and saw that Boone had already gone back inside. She sighed with relief.

"Yeah, well. He's crazy and only attacks at night, I guess."

"Ooh, like a vampire?"

Riley laughed. "Yes, like a vampire. Now come on, let's check out the McBride's."

* * *

Of all the things Riley thought she'd be doing, hiding in a bush in the middle of the night waiting for a serial cow killer was not one of them. She felt slightly ridiculous, but given the evidence in the McBride's paddock, she couldn't deny there was something strange going on. She had made sure both her and Veronica were armed for the watch once she saw the corpses of the brahmin victims. The size of the bullet holes riddling their hides were tiny, but the entry points were also random and plentiful.

She was putting her money on an automatic rifle of some sort. 5.56mm calibre maybe.

"How much longer?" Veronica yawned beside her. Riley checked her Pipboy, careful to shield the light as best she could. 11:54. She flicked it back off and sighed.

"Soon. They said the attacks happen at midnight."

"'Location of the entry wounds mean they were shot from across the train tracks'," Veronica quoted Riley proudly. She smiled in the darkness.

"Atta girl. Well, it rules out the psychotic sniper at any rate."

"Aw come on, he really didn't seem that bad. Just sad, and lonely."

Riley rolled her eyes. "My heart bleeds for the guy. Really."

"Well, you _did_ sneak up on him, and didn't you say earlier that sneaking up on a sniper in their nest was a good way to get yourself killed?"

Riley stayed quiet. Yeah, she _did_ say that but she didn't think Veronica had _heard_ her irritated mumblings while she paced around their room. She didn't want to think about the fact that maybe that entire fiasco could have been avoided if she had, say, knocked.

"Stay focused," she grumbled. "Should be soon. Do you see anything?"

"Nope."

Riley sighed. She scanned the area herself and could see no sign of any sort of life. Maybe whoever was killing the brahmin simply took the night off? They _were _down to only the two cows. Even as she thought it a flicker of movement from the corner of her eye brought her head around. She narrowed her eyes, trying to focus on a blur in the distance.

_What the...?_

"Do you see that?" she whispered. Veronica followed her gaze to the massive rock across the road.

"N- yes. Yes. Oh my god."

"What is it?"

"They're under a stealth field," Veronica replied, bewildered. "A stealth boy."

Riley cursed. That would make aiming interesting. "Think they see us?"

"I don't know how long they've been there," Veronica said quietly. "They could have been prowling around all over like that, and we wouldn't have noticed."

"Hell with it. I'm gonna shoot it," she brought her new .44 magnum out of its holster, grateful that Cliff had the proper ammunition in stock.

"What if it's not the cow killer?"

"Explain what _else_ would be standing outside the McBride's at midnight under a stealth field," Riley hissed.

"Okay, point taken."

Riley lifted her gun with both hands, taking aim at the blurry distortion in the distance. She shifted her weight so she was leaning forward with one foot in front of the other, releasing the safety. She fired.

A roar erupted in the night, sending chills down Riley's spine. She stood with Veronica, watching wide-eyed as the distortion flickered, then died, revealing a nightkin super mutant.

And that wasn't an automatic rifle. It was a 5mm minigun.

"Oh _shit_," Riley cursed. She grabbed Veronica's arm, yanking her backwards. "_Run!"_

They ran back towards the hotel, hearts racing. Behind them, they could hear the nightkin starting up his minigun, the rotating whirring of the massive gun giving them incentive to pick up speed as he started firing. Veronica veered off to the right and Riley went left, ducking behind the main office. She could see Veronica taking cover behind some old world vehicles near the old gas station. Bullets rained in between them at massive speeds, and Riley shifted herself farther left until it stopped altogether. She didn't want to risk looking around the corner, instead straining her ears until she heard the heavy stomping as the mutant ran to find them.

_Shit, shit, shit._

She couldn't hide in the hotel courtyard. She didn't want to bring the nightkin closer to the residents, killing anyone with stray gunfire. Her mind raced to find an alternative.

The stomping was closer, and she briefly considered ducking into the office, but that would leave Veronica out here alone, and she couldn't abandon her. She glanced across the road to see Veronica waving at her frantically.

"Distract it!" she hissed.

"_You_ distract it!" Riley hissed back, indignant. "It's got a god damn minigun. Last I checked, I'm not bulletproof!"

"_Trust me!"_

The stomping was closer now, and Riley was running out of time and options. She could hear the heavy panting as the mutant slowed to a jog. It was almost there...

She ran to the Novac sign, firing as she ran. The recoil shot up her arm and she ducked behind the sign before the mutant could start firing.

"Got ya!" Veronica's cry echoed in the night, followed by the pained grunts of the nightkin. Riley whipped her head around to see Veronica ducking and dodging the heavy swipes of the mutant, apparently having gotten the jump on it as it ran past after Riley. Any time it tried to lift its gun, Veronica's powerfist was there, striking its massive hands and making it yowl in pain.

Riley raised her gun and aimed, trying to get a clear shot, but Veronica was all over the place, pulling the nightkin this way and that. Riley pulled back farther, gun raised and ready, stepping carefully. She noticed Veronica was pulling the mutant back towards her and the bridge and the particulars of Veronica's plan were suddenly clear. She looked up to see the rifle sticking out of Dinky's mouth and realized Boone didn't have a clear shot at his angle.

"Veronica!" She shouted.

"Busy here!"

"He sees it! Give him a clear shot!"

"Roger!" She dodged another angry swipe and then rolled to the side. Riley fired a few shots, hitting the mutant in the shoulder and arm. In a rage, the mutant threw his gun to the ground and lowered his stance to run at them. Riley called out a warning and the Scribe scrambled against the pavement, flying past her. Riley fired again, this time hitting the mutant in the chest, then turned and ran, joining Veronica at the edge of the bridge.

The mutant ran at them. Veronica shifted away from Riley and dropped back into her battle stance. Riley lifted her gun and took aim.

Boone's rifle sounded in the darkness, and the nightkin cow killer fell to the ground, skidding against the asphalt without its head. Silence filled the night.

"Shit," Veronica sank to her knees, breathing heavily while she hunched over, exhausted. Riley's hands were shaking, and she forced herself to lower the gun.

"Jesus Christ," she cursed, running a hand through her hair. "Jesus... fuck. Fucking hell that was close."

"I thought-" Veronica lifted her head. "I was going to tell you to bury me in a dress."

Riley gave a shaky laugh and held out a hand, taking Veronica's and pulling her to her feet. "Quick thinking there, about Boone."

"Aw thanks," Veronica leaned her hands on her knees, still trying to catch her breath. "You think we should go up and thank him?"

Riley sighed. "Yeah, probably." She tucked her gun into its holster and nudged the nightkin with her toe. "But uh, let's knock first, okay?"


	7. And there's still a race ahead

**Author's Note: **_So either my chapters come out effortlessly in one night, or it's a struggle to write three paragraphs in two. Consistency, wherefore art thou? Also, I edited the last chapter a wee bit. Wasn't completely satisfied with the fight scene with the nightkin so it got tweaked a little. Nobody __**has**__ to go back and read it. The changes are admittedly minor and hey, same results either way: dead mutant._

_Thanks as always for reading! Review? Yes? No? Okay. I still love you._

* * *

"Why can't this wait until morning?" Veronica complained behind her. "Haven't we done enough for one night?"

"This is the only time Jeannie May's not in her office. Might as well get it out of the way first," Riley huffed out a breath as she fiddled with the lock on the door in front of her. The lock was simple, but she hadn't touched her lock picking tools in over a year, it was only natural to take a little time getting back in the swing of things. However, she _was_ rusty and had broken three bobby pins already, and she couldn't really blame adrenaline for it either. _That_ had already faded by now, but she still felt wired, on edge, and she had a good idea as to why. Their conversation with Boone was still fresh in her mind.

She had offered him a debt. Not that she expected him to take her up on it, but she felt obligated to him, and as the day had gone on she had to admit to some sort of guilt over the whole fiasco from the night before. After all, she should have known she was entering a sniper nest, given her own background, so she should have known better than to not announce herself.

It didn't make his attack on her any less stupid, but at least she could share some of the blame.

So a debt owed. He didn't seem particularly thrilled with their visit, but she was beginning to think that maybe stoically annoyed was just his default personality. He had shut her down immediately after she offered, mentioning something about having enough debts to worry about. It all sounded very cryptically morbid, to be honest, but when they turned to leave, he stopped them. His tremulous 'wait', the vulnerability in his voice on that single word was all it took for her to stand there and listen to his request.

"I mean, yeah, I get it," Veronica went on. "Handsome man, sad story. Any regular girl would cry buckets and swoon right into his arms. But you looked _pissed_."

"Just so happens that forced slavery strikes a bit of a nerve with me. Can you move to the side, please?" Riley looked up at her. "You're in my moonlight."

Veronica obliged, shifting only slightly to the left while she babbled on. "And I don't claim to know you _all_ that well. I mean, I've known you less than 48 hours, but I pride myself on being able to read people. It's all in the eyes, you know? So here I thought I had a pretty good lock on you and then he brings up this sob story that he can't even _prove_ aside from an 'I just know, okay?' I thought you were going to tell him where to go and how to get there because he's basically asking you to help him kill somebody in this town. Not sure if you got that part, by the way. The whole... death bit, and all. And you being ex-military! I figured maybe that would be, you know, easy to justify morally with a big fat 'no' but it seems like you're right on board with the whole thing and I admit, I'm confused as to why."

Riley sighed and lowered her hands, exasperated. "Do you _ever_ shut up?"

"Only when it rains," came the nonchalant reply.

"We owe him," Riley lifted her tools and started working at the lock again. "Yeah, maybe the entire story is a load of shit, but that doesn't mean we can't look into it, right? If we find nothing, nobody's dying. Simple as that."

"And if we _do_ find something?"

"Then somebody's going to find a lot in common very suddenly with that nightkin," she snarled.

"There's that anger again. Are you taking this whole thing personally?"

Riley ignored her, instead focusing on the lock. Her last few turns had yielded a good amount, so she knew she was close. She adjusted the bobby pin a fraction and twisted the screwdriver, smiling as she heard the telltale _click_ of success. "There we go. Still got it," she stood up proudly, tucking her tools back into her belt.

"And where did you learn to pick locks?" Veronica demanded as she followed Riley inside. "Don't tell me that's taught in the army." She closed the door behind them.

"It is and it isn't. Okay," she flicked on her Pip-Boy light and surveyed the darkened room. "You start with the filing cabinets, I'll check the desk area."

"Uh, hello? I don't have a Pip-Boy light. Kinda hard to check for incriminating evidence if I can't see what I'm looking at."

Riley rolled her eyes and flipped on the room's light switch. Veronica grinned and they separated. Riley moved over to the front desk area, opening the register first. Inside was a whopping thirteen caps. She wondered where her hundred caps for the room had gone while she poked around the shelves below. She was amused to find a stockpile of the lunches Boone claimed to never accept. Guess he was telling the truth, there, she thought. Could he be telling the truth about his wife?

"So what did you mean by 'it is and it isn't'?" Veronica asked, pulling out random cabinet drawers and yanking out folders. Riley heard the pop and fizz of a soda being opened and looked over to see Veronica chugging back on a Nuka-Cola.

"What? It was in the drawer."

"Hardly incriminating evidence," she scolded lightly. She bent back down to the lower shelves, pocketing a few bobby pins and caps that were littered around.

"As for your question... in basic training, if you wanted to get laid you had to break into a closet or somewhere the MP's couldn't find you. You learned pretty quickly."

Veronica choked on her drink. "And uh, how good are you at lock picking again?"

Riley lifted her head to glare at Veronica over the counter. "Good enough."

"Okay," came the reply. It sounded suspiciously like it was hiding concealed laughter.

There was nothing she could use against Jeannie May on the shelves. She sighed and looked around, shifting her weight so that she was resting on one knee. Her knee struck metal and she glanced down. There was a safe on the floor, and a quick tug on the handle revealed that the lock was engaged. Riley frowned at it, wondering what exactly Jeannie May had that was valuable enough to require safekeeping. She wasn't exactly rolling in the caps, from what Riley had seen. She pulled out her tools and set to work.

"There's nothing in these," Veronica declared sometime later. "It's all old world paperwork and paperweights and broken cameras." She joined Riley behind the counter and crouched down beside her. "Find anything?"

Riley was silent, staring at the slip of paper in her hand. She read it over for the fifth time, desperately wishing the words would change on the paper so it wouldn't be true. _Jeannie May? _How... why? _Why_ would _anyone-_

"Riley?" Veronica touched her gently on the shoulder and she jumped, twisting in a panic. Her eyes were wide and she realized they probably looked like she was crying. Veronica frowned.

"You okay?"

She shook her head, handing Veronica the slip of paper. She slammed the safe shut and pushed herself to her feet while she read it.

"Oh my- oh my god," the Scribe lifted her eyes to meet Riley's, expression sad and bewildered and pitying. "And she was pregnant, too."

_The girl was naked up on the podium, crying and pretty and pregnant..._

Riley blinked.

No. No. They weren't the same. And it wasn't fair to try and draw parallels between them either. Focus. She pushed the thought away, forcing herself to remember that Boone needed her to do something.

"What now?" Veronica asked quietly. Her previous chattiness was gone.

"You go out by the nightkin," Riley said flatly. "I'm going to bring Jeannie May out and we'll get this done," she took a deep breath. Then another. Veronica gave her a strange look and she shook her head.

"I'm fine. Let's get this done."

* * *

She didn't bother knocking. Jeannie May had lost all privileges when it came to secure doors, as far as Riley was concerned. She threw that door open and waltzed in as if she owned the place, using her Pip-Boy light to guide her to the bedroom.

Jeannie May was sleeping soundly in her bed. Riley stared down at her, furious that someone who had sold a pregnant women into slavery and ruined a man's life could sleep so easily, without a care in the world.

She shook the old woman roughly, trying to keep the anger out of her voice as she called her name. "Jeannie May, wake up!"

"Wha-?"

She shook her again. "Wake up! This is important!"

"What's wrong? Why are you in my house?" Annoyance was creeping into Jeannie May's voice and Riley sucked in a breath to avoid snapping at her.

"Get up!" She hissed. "You have to see this!"

"Alright, alright!" She got up, waving Riley away from her while she got her shoes on. Riley stood by impatiently, arms crossed. Once she was actually up, she moved to get a jacket and Riley all but hauled the old woman out the front door before she could reach her wardrobe, uncaring that she was still half asleep, ignoring her feeble protests while she dragged her through the street. She could see Veronica fidgeting by the nightkin in the distance and pointed so Jeannie would stop complaining.

"There, by the dinosaur."

"What- I still need my glasses. I can't see whatever it is-"

"Almost there." She picked up her pace and Jeannie struggled not to fall, her elbow still firmly in Riley's grasp. At the nightkin, she released her, nodding to Veronica to stand back.

"What- is that a-?" the old woman crouched low, squinting at the dead mutant.

"Nightkin," Veronica nodded. "It was what was killing the brahmin, under a stealth boy." She spared Riley a glance as if to say 'hurry it up' and she took another step back. Jeannie May circled the nightkin, distracted.

"Well I'll be!" She declared. She rambled off a few questions that Veronica answered vaguely, her voice on edge.

Riley looked up, easily spotting Boone leaning casually out of the dinosaur's mouth, watching them. She reached to her belt, pulling the First Recon beret from where she had tucked it away earlier. Her hands closed around the familiar cloth as she raised it to her head, eyes still on Boone. He raised his rifle and she imagined his scope focusing on her face, looking for confirmation. She nodded once, hard, and let the beret fall into place.

For the second time that night, something fell to her feet without a head.

* * *

Boone was strangely calm while he waited for Riley to come up and explain her findings. He didn't know what he expected to feel. Relief, maybe. A sense of completion? Joy? But instead he felt nothing, and it didn't really bother him.

Maybe he was in shock?

Quick glances over the side of his post every now and then showed Veronica hauling Jeannie May's body to the far side of the bridge. The raider he'd killed the night Riley had surprised him still lay there, sprawled out in a pool of dried blood. He'd shot her in the neck and she had bled out quickly while he watched through his scope.

He kept an eye on the distance for threats while Veronica worked, quickly stripping Jeannie May of her clothes and swapping them for the raider's. It wasn't what he would have done. He would have simply left her by the nightkin and blamed the dead mutant.

The soft knock on the door signalled Riley's arrival, and he turned to face her while she quietly stepped out into the night. She was covered in blood – some from the nightkin, most of it from Jeannie – and still had his beret on her head.

"That was quick," he noted. "I hope you have the evidence to back this up or you and I are going to have a problem."

She said nothing, merely holding out a slip of worn paper that looked like it had been handled a hundred times. He took it, and under the light of her Pip-Boy, read the receipt for how much his wife and unborn child had sold for.

His jaw clenched as he realized Jeannie May had been holding onto this, needing it to collect the extra five hundred caps once his child was born. He wondered if she had been confused when months passed and nobody showed up, if she felt cheated out of money she probably felt was owed to her.

Suddenly he felt a certain bitter comfort in blowing Jeannie May's head off.

"Good enough evidence?" She asked quietly. He nodded, crumpling the paper in his hand.

"What are you going to do now?"

He stared at her. "I don't know. But I'm not staying here, that's for damn sure. Figure I'll just wander around killing as many Legionnaires as I can before the inevitable."

He watched her process that, the frown of concern, followed by the gnawing of her lip while she considered something. He waited for her to speak, since she appeared to be working up to something, but she stayed quiet for quite a while. He was about to just say his goodbye and leave, when she seemed to make up her mind.

"Come with us," she blurted. His eyes narrowed.

"I don't think so. That's not a good idea."

"The hell it's not," she replied. "You want to kill Legion, great. But alone your kill count is going to be pretty damn dismal before you end up on a cross."

He felt his back rise up at the implied insult, that he couldn't handle himself or that he was no match for the Legion. He snatched his beret off her head, placing it deftly back on his own. She stared at it, silent, while he glared at her and willed her to go away so he could finish his shift in silence.

"When the Legion captured me," she said slowly, "they took my gear. Made me wear a slave collar and a poor excuse of a rag for clothing." She wasn't looking at him anymore. Even in the darkness he could feel the shift in her stance, the change in her voice. The life had gone out of her and he said nothing, curious because escaped slaves were few and far between.

"They put my partner up on the cross," she went on. "Made me watch while he died. Punished him more if I didn't." Her mouth set into a hard line as she finally turned her gaze back to his. "Snipers work in pairs, Boone. We can kill more Legion if we work together. Alone, you're not going to last long. That's experience talking."

He frowned. "You're-?"

"First Recon," she nodded. "Bravo Team. Formerly."

He looked her over. "I don't see a rifle."

She sighed, shaking a hand through her hair as if this was not something she wanted to talk about. "That is a long story. Short version? My guns were stolen from me. I got ambushed walking the roads a few days ago. Alone." Her pointed gaze did not go unnoticed.

She had a valid argument, he admitted. Working alone was a good way to get yourself killed. From what she said, she also had no love for the Legion either. In fact, she seemed to have just as much reason to hate them as he did. That was a working relationship he could get behind. Motive that was simple, understandable, and mutual.

"Fine," he said. "This isn't going to end well but if you're willing, I am." He held out his hand and she took it. They shook firmly. She smiled at him, then. Surprise and pride flashed across her face, pleased she'd convinced him, maybe.

"Good. Great." She said, and turned to leave. "We're leaving in the morning."


	8. I must run

**Author's Note: **_Every time I play the game and drink a bottle of Nuka-Cola, I get an intense craving for Pepsi or Coke. It's that __**sound**_**, **_man. Anyways! Thank you all for reading! I had a few days there where I lamented at this fic because I felt the quality of my writing deteriorated over the last few chapters, so this one was a struggle to write. :3_

* * *

Riley jerked awake to the sound of someone pounding on her door. Confusion, followed by annoyance, were prevalent as she cocked open one bleary eye. Sunlight was streaming through the boarded up windows, casting warm ribbons of light against her face. Beside her, Veronica groaned and rolled over, muttering something incoherent and covering her head with a pillow.

The pounding came again, this time louder, and she pushed herself up on one elbow, glaring at the door. The time on her Pip-Boy read 8:50, and annoyance gave way to cautious theorizing. Either someone found Jeannie May's body, or someone was looking for an explanation about the mutant corpse laying in the middle of the bridge.

She grumbled as she pushed herself up, stumbling out of the bed. She staggered towards the door still half asleep and opened it a crack, blinking tiredly against the rising sun. A shadow stepped in front of her and her eyes adjusted gratefully, finally focusing on Boone. She blinked, waking up slightly.

"Hey," he greeted her. He had a duffel slung over his shoulder, his rifle over the other. He looked tense, and despite his casual greeting, she had the sense that he was in somewhat of a hurry.

"Hey," she said carefully, brow furrowed. "Someone find the body?" It was the only explanation that made any sense to her. Were people asking questions? Was Boone under suspicion? Were _they _under suspicion? Did they have to leave _now_?

"No. At least I don't think so. Not many people are up yet."

"Oh," she leaned against the door frame, running a hand over her face while she struggled to wake up fully. "So what's wrong?"

He sighed. "Manny starts his shift in ten minutes."

"Who's Manny?" she yawned.

"Day sniper. My old partner."

She froze mid-stretch. Oh.

_Oh_.

A smile played on her lips, absurdly amused as she realized he wanted to hide. She dropped her arms and stepped aside, holding the door wide and gesturing for him to come in. He moved past her stiffly and she shut the door behind him.

After waking a very reluctant Veronica, they wasted little time in getting ready - only a minor squabble between the two girls as they fought over the bathroom that had Boone sighing impatiently. Before they left, Riley went outside to make sure Manny wasn't prowling around looking for Boone. She wasn't disappointed, watching as another man in a red beret stalked around the courtyard, apparently upset that the night sniper had abandoned his post. She leaned over the railing, pretending to enjoy the morning air as he banged on Boone's door, shouting obscenities. Minutes passed by before he gave up and headed back to the dinosaur.

She took a small walk down towards the workshop where she made sure the sniper was in his nest, then headed back to give the all-clear. She recruited Boone to help her haul the nightkin's minigun to Cliff's while Veronica went to inform the McBride's that their problem was taken care of.

"Morning young lady," Cliff nodded at them as they flung open the door. "Boone. Manny was looking for you."

"Uh-huh."

Riley strained to return Cliff's smile as she grunted under the weight of the gun. One last heave and they lifted the weapon onto the counter with a loud thud. Cliff looked at it, eyebrows raised.

"Well now, this explains a few things."

"Saw the dead mutant on the bridge?" Riley asked, catching her breath.

"Can't say that I did," Cliff replied. "But it explains what I heard last night. Sure caused a ruckus." He took to looking over the gun, and Riley filled him in as he appraised it.

"So, eventually, Veronica gets the idea to lure it close to the bridge so Boone can take a shot at it."

"Is that right?" Cliff smiled as he handed over the caps. Riley didn't bother counting them before tossing them in her pouch. She liked Cliff, and whatever he felt the gun was worth was good enough for her.

"Absolutely. He's a crack shot, that's for sure. We'd have been done for if it wasn't for him."

Boone didn't say anything, while Cliff looked impressed. "Careful now. Don't want all that praise to go to his head." He chuckled. Riley grinned at the mental image of Boone strutting around in a pride-filled daze. "Are you sure I can't interest you in a T-Rex? Your friend seemed mighty interested in one."

She shook her head. "No thanks, have to save my caps."

"And you Boone? Don't want the usual today?"

Boone froze as Riley looked up at him expectantly. "No."

Riley raised one eyebrow. "What's the usu—"

"Can you tell Manny I quit?" he asked and she scowled at being interrupted. Cliff sighed.

"Finally decided to leave us, huh? Can't say I didn't see this day coming. I can tell you right now Jeannie May's not going to be happy about this. She's always going on about how safe you two boys make her feel, watching over us."

Okay, this was uncomfortable. Riley was a shit liar and she knew it, so she found something suddenly interesting on a shelf and turned away to look at it. She hoped Cliff didn't notice how closely she was inspecting his selection of coffee mugs. Behind her, Boone let a moment or two pass before answering.

"It's just time. There's nothing for me here anymore."

"Well alright," Cliff shook his head. "I can't force you to stay, but you can always come back anytime you want. Might be good for you to get out there. Live a little. I take it you're leaving with the young lady here?"

"Right."

"Good! Good for you! Time for you to move on. Young man like yourself needs a woman in his life. Keeps life interesting."

"Yeah."

Wait, _what?_

She turned, an awkward smile plastered on her face. "Hate to cut this short, but we really need to hit the road. Long walk ahead of us."

Cliff nodded and they made their goodbyes, Boone reminding him to pass along the message to Manny after his shift was over. Outside, Riley struggled to find a casual way to ask 'What the fuck, Boone?' without sounding angry or annoyed. She figured they'd bickered and fought enough, and for a partnership in its infant stages, she didn't want to provoke him further by coming off as a harpy.

They could see Veronica perched happily on the large boulder the nightkin was using for cover the night before, and Riley sighed as she ran out of time with each step.

"So uh," she fidgeted with the straps of her rucksack. "You wanna explain... that?"

"Not really."

"Because if we're dating now you should know I'm pretty high maintenance."

He spared her a glare and she grinned. Humour was the key, she figured. The less things got completely serious, the easier it was to talk with him.

"I'm totally serious," she went on. "I need gifts, wooing. Keats under a full moon. The whole shebang."

He sighed. "Look. I didn't mean nothing by it. It was sort of a last 'fuck you' to Manny."

"Always glad to be part of a bitter revenge plot," she said cheerfully. "So what's up with this guy? You two have a falling out?"

"Something like that."

"If we have a falling out are you going to escape into the Mojave with the first woman you meet, too?"

"No."

"Well that's gratifying."

Veronica hopped down as they approached. "Look at you two!" she declared proudly, arms wide as if setting them on display. "Talking and stuff! And no fighting!"

"Give us time, the day's still young," Riley grinned. "So how'd we do with the McBride's?"

Veronica's smile fell. "Uh. Maybe we don't talk about that right now?" she suggested meekly.

"How much?" Riley sighed.

"Seventy-five?"

She gawked. Seventy-five was _not_ the going rate for nearly being mowed down by an invisible super mutant to save a few stinkin' brahmin. That was at _least_ a few hundred caps worth of work.

"It was all they had," Veronica explained sadly, and Riley blinked.

"Oh. Well go give it back. I'm not bankrupting them."

Veronica looked at her strangely. "Uh, you sure? I thought you needed the caps."

"Not that badly, I don't."

"Okay," Veronica shook her head and left to return their reward. Boone was staring at her and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"What?" she demanded after a while.

"What do you need the caps for?"

Veronica rejoined them and looked at Riley expectantly. "Been wondering that myself, honestly. Though I've been telling myself it's for a gorgeous new dress that I know you'll totally let me try on, right?"

Riley gestured down the train tracks. "Come on, I'll explain while we walk. Let's not waste daylight."

She explained as best she could. That she was a courier with the Mojave Express who had a valuable package stolen. That she was shot in the head and recovered in Goodsprings thanks to a well-meaning doctor and a nosey Securitron. That her attackers were headed to New Vegas and to get in she needed two thousand caps because her contract required her to retrieve the package or face punishment.

"Thought you were in the army," Boone remarked once she was done. She gave him a sidelong glare, unsure what he was getting at.

"You commenting on me letting myself get ambushed or my lack of a passport?"

"Both."

"One, there were like five of them and it was in the middle of the night. Visibility was shit. Two, they took everything. My guns, my passport, my caps, my shades, my hat. Hell, they took my shovel. Used it to dig my grave, the bastards."

"You look pretty good for a dead person," Veronica nudged her, smiling. "I wouldn't have known if you hadn't said anything."

Riley pushed her blonde hair aside, revealing the shaved part of her head and the stitched up scar running across it. Both Boone and Veronica stopped to take a look at it, Veronica even going so far as running a finger across it.

"You got lucky," said Boone finally.

Riley laughed, shaking her hair back into place. "The doc, he said something about how lucky I was. What was it?" she tapped her chin, trying to remember. "'With luck like yours I'm surprised them bullets didn't turn right around and climb back into the gun.'"

"I think it's more lucky there was a doctor capable of performing that sort of surgery in a town like Goodsprings," he replied.

She smiled. "Didn't think of that. Good point."

They continued walking, Veronica took to babbling about something inane and Boone took to putting a little distance between them. Not far enough that he couldn't hear them, but far enough that he wouldn't be required to contribute to the conversation while he kept his eyes on their surroundings.

They stopped at Ranger Station Charlie, briefly, to get an update on the area. Riley tried to hide her unease when they were told of the rising Legion activity on the roads. Boone, on the other hand, almost seemed to perk up at the news. Granted it was expected, but it was also disturbing, and though she'd promised to help him hunt Legion, she didn't feel she could adequately do that without her rifle. Maybe she was liking it to a security blanket, but if she was going to be killing Legion, she wanted a scope and at least two hundred yards between them. That was comfortable. Breathing room. Running room.

She had them cut through the hills, avoiding the roads altogether. A decision Boone didn't seem overly pleased about going by the way he glared at her as they stopped for lunch, busting out water canteens and old world food. She didn't think it was possible to rage eat, but by the way he was cramming the food in his mouth like it was her fault he had to endure two hundred year old Mac & Cheese instead of exchanging fire with a few legionaries, it was clear that it was. They sat under the scorching sun and clear blue skies and ate in an awkward silence while Veronica hummed to the tune of whatever came on Radio New Vegas.

They didn't rest long before Riley had them pushing on.

By the time they neared Nipton, it was late afternoon. Veronica's singing had died off and they were mostly silent aside from the odd gripe over a loose stone. The town sat silent in the valley below them, and the closer they got, the more Riley felt something was wrong. Apparently she wasn't the only one, because Boone stopped them shortly before they made the final descent.

"Wait," he said. "Look." He pointed up at the spiralling black plumes of smoke and Riley frowned, squinting against the afternoon sun.

"Normally I'd say it's just an outdoor fire, but there's like three of them," she noted, folding her arms. She looked up at Boone. "Recon?"

He nodded, his face grim, and they moved up to a ridge overlooking the town, giving them a clear view. He lifted his scope and made a sweeping pass over the town, expression hardening dangerously.

"Legion flag," he pointed out. Riley's heart rate jumped and she swallowed.

"A-are you sure?" she asked. He handed her his rifle while Veronica dug out a pair of binoculars. Riley's brief joy at holding what she deemed a 'proper' gun again was dampened when the scope focused on the red flag with the golden bull, flapping in the breeze. Fire burned on the south side of town, and more on the north, and from the colour of the smoke she hazarded a guess at burning rubber. Another flag fluttered lazily from atop the Town Hall.

She lowered the gun, staring disbelievingly. Nipton had been hit. This far west, and so close to the Outpost, it was pretty god damn unsettling to think of how close she had come to coming into contact with them again. She had been in Nipton a few days before she was shot, collecting on a delivery.

So absorbed in her own thoughts, Riley didn't react at all as Boone reacquired his rifle from her, and didn't move an inch until she realized Boone was already making his way down towards the town.

"Wh-" she turned, boots scrambling against the gravel to catch up, Veronica right on her heels. Boone was already at the bottom of the slope before she reached him. She clamped a hand on his wrist and dug her heels in, skidding against the sand. "Wait!" She pleaded desperately. Boone yanked his arm away turning on her with a dangerous glare.

"I told you. I see red, I'm shooting first, no questions asked," he jabbed a finger at her accusingly. "You said we'd hunt Legion together. Said we'd be more effective together. You either have my back or you don't."

"I'm not saying I don't!" She exclaimed. "Just- can we think about this a moment?"

"What's to think about?" he snapped, taking another step towards her. "They're Legion."

"Maybe we shouldn't just run in there, guns blazing?" Veronica suggested. Riley grasped at that, grateful.

"She's right," she agreed. "We need a plan. If they took out an entire town they're going to have numbers. And dogs," she grimaced. "Probably a lot of dogs." As if to prove her point, a chorus of howls rose from the town, echoing eerily into the empty valley.

Boone tensed, as if the appearance of logic into the conversation wasn't something he wanted. What he wanted was vindication, Legion blood and vengeance to pay for Carla's life, for his mistakes.

Riley took a deep breath while she tried to quell her own fear and find reason to calm his bloodlust.

"Higher kill count needs planning, Boone. You're the only one with a rifle, and Veronica needs to be close range to do any damage."

"I have a gun," Veronica pouted.

"Like I said, you need to be close range to do any damage. You can't hit the broad side of a barn." She looked up at Boone, eyes pleading for him to see reason. He breathed heavily, anger making him taut and wound. His hands gripped his rifle like a vice. Minutes ticked by, civilizations rose and fell, but eventually he sighed, shouldered his rifle and folded his arms.

"Fine. Let's come up with a plan."


	9. I'm only half way home

This was stupid.

Stupid and reckless.

Completely and utterly devoid of anything resembling sanity.

She wondered if that made her brave. The possibility of temporary madness was an easy excuse, but not one she could currently entertain as she entered Nipton from the south, walking with a confidence she didn't feel. Every fibre in her body was screaming at her to _get out _and_ run _and_ hide you coward, _but logic and a promise kept her moving, one foot in front of the other in an almost mechanical stride.

Scouting and planning had taken the better part of an hour. Boone's mounting impatience only served to have Riley plant him at the western entrance to town with a firm command to _stay put_. If anything, Boone was built to follow orders, and had grudgingly replied that he'd sit tight while Riley prowled around in the shadows of buildings, unnoticed, using dust and the setting sun and years of built-in practice at remaining hidden. Initial scouting had yielded small numbers of low ranking Legion members clustered around the entrance to the Town Hall, the three story building apparently set up as their base of operations while they occupied the town. Two dogs played in the dirt while the soldiers idled, but muffled and distant yapping and howling hinted at more inside.

From experience, Boone and Riley agreed there could not be more legionaries mulling about in the various homes and buildings, due to the fact that they hadn't set up a perimeter guard around the town itself. Any and all legion in Nipton were either in front of the town hall or inside said building, and from what they managed to get out of the crippled convict they found, there couldn't be more than six or seven legionaries total.

It was... lower than she expected. For such small numbers to take over a town, taking out NCR soldiers, an entire townsfolk, and apparently a group of convicts as well... well it just didn't make sense. Nobody fought back? They could have easily overpowered them, especially with a small contingent of off-duty NCR soldiers in town, drunk or not. While these facts lined up told her that what they were dealing with were either incredibly experienced legionaries, the low numbers made success suddenly seem wonderfully palpable. It did not, however, make the feeling that what she was doing was _fucking stupid_ any less prevalent.

_Get out. Run. Hide. Do not play bait._

She hesitated when the soldiers finally started to notice her, coming out of various idle states, unfolding their arms and standing straighter and hands reaching for their weapons. They didn't draw, though, nor did they advance on her. It was more of a cautious move, a warning that should she try and attack they would reciprocate, and _that_ confused her. She was a woman, and in the Legion's eyes there was only one thing a woman was good for. It was what she had banked on when she set the plan in motion, and Boone knew it from the sharp glare and the set of his jaw.

He thought her plan was stupid, too.

One legionary moved to give a single knock on the door to the hall. A signal. Her heart rate jumped and she forced herself to take another step, then another, as a single Legion officer stepped out into the evening air. She stopped completely while he talked to his men. The fox-head helmet commonly seen on Vexillarii sat upon his head, and he had a quiet air about him with a strong undercurrent of cruelty that made her fight-or-flight tendencies all scream towards _run run run_. He spoke quietly to his soldiers, and Riley's confusion grew as they relaxed their stances.

He turned his gaze on her, raising his hand and beckoning to her with the single cruel crook of a finger.

_Get out. Run. Hide._

She wanted to check if Boone was in position, but couldn't risk giving him away. She wondered if Veronica had set up the mines like Riley had explained, with a drawn map in the dirt and instructions to remain hidden until the bullets started flying.

She took another step forward.

"We won't harm you," the officer crooned, "Unlike these degenerates we have made an example of, you we have a use for."

Boone's voice came back to her, irritable and curt while they argued over the finer points of using her as bait – a strategy he called _crude_ and that she'd called _necessary _– telling her that they might try talking to her, and if they did, to use it to keep their attention on her and away from him while he scaled the General Store. She had asked why they would even bother, and he pointed out that both survivors couldn't carry the Legion's message of consequence to the NCR because they were convicts. She didn't think much of his words then, but now she had to admit she was impressed – Boone had a better grasp on how the Legion worked than she would have thought.

"Come closer, woman."

She tried, willing herself to move. Fear had her rooted where she was, however, and she settled instead for staring at him as impassively as she could manage. Which, to say, wasn't impassive at all. If this were a poker game, her gig would be up. Her breathing was irregular, her heart rate probably dangerously high, sweat beaded on her brow. She was taut like a coiled spring, muscles tensed and wound. Her stress was tangible, and this man beckoning to her smiled knowingly while she remained frozen in place.

He closed the distance between them himself, and she crushed a twitching impulse to back away. "You know who we are. What we are."

"I know," she managed to croak out.

"What we have done here - you, degenerate, will bear witness to." It wasn't a request, she noticed. He spoke as if he knew she would obey, that her fear would drive her to it. "You will spread the word of our deeds, of our strength and what occurred here, to the profligates infesting these lands, so that they know what's coming to them. You will do this because I, Vulpes Inculta, have allowed you to live. Know that you are blessed by the mercy of the Legion for this mission."

Her blood ran cold. Vulpes Inculta. She was standing in front of the leader of Caesar's Frumentarii, his personal spy and espionage network. This was the fourth most powerful man in the entire Legion, and he was standing in front of her and offering her _mercy _if she delivered his message.

Oh shit. Oh fuck.

"And if I refuse?" She asked, mindful of her task to keep him occupied, proud at the same time that her voice didn't shake.

"You have an _opinion_ of our work, woman? We taught a lesson here, that disloyalty does not go unpunished. Our work is the will of Caesar, and this town of whores that laid bare to all who came to suckle was but the first to fall. Spare your sympathy," he said softly. "Spare your misplaced righteousness. This town deserved neither. The message-" he crooned, "-is all you need to take from this place."

She opened her mouth to tell him he could take his message and go fuck a molerat with it, but the crack of a rifle against the quiet evening air split the silence like a knife, her classy rebuttal dying on her lips before kissing air. Behind Vulpes, a legionary fell to the ground, grasping at his neck and the bullet wound while he choked on his own blood. In the few seconds she had to react, she had a brief moment of indignation because the plan was to take out the legionary closest to _her_ as the signal, before she realized that her freezing before she reached them properly had drawn Vulpes down the street towards her and most likely out of Boone's sights.

Riley took her signal anyway, drawing her .44 and aiming it at Vulpes meticulously. He ducked and rushed her as she fired, her eyes widening while her bullet took down the legionary advancing behind him instead. He tackled her to the ground and she grunted, her gun went flying, bouncing away and landing uselessly in the sand, well out of reach.

Another crack of gunfire took down a dog, the crying whine going up as it flopped to the ground, and Riley could hear Veronica shouting taunts and laughing while she played with the few remaining legionaries and their last dog. Above her, Vulpes forced them to roll into the cover of a building, effectively taking him away from Veronica and her powerfist. She struggled to get the upper hand, to come out on top in the roll, but he had a vice grip on her arms, and pinned her easily between his legs. Fear shot through her, strong and cold and paralysing.

"Profligate," he hissed, leaning forward so he was whispering into her ear. "Had I known, I would have had other plans for you. Taken my time," he purred. Revulsion swelled and filled and she bit back the taste in her mouth. She bucked, using the opportunity to slam her head into his and then scramble away from him while he reeled. Her head pounded, but her knife was in her hand and she shouted out for Veronica to hurry up.

She couldn't attack with the knife, lessons from basic resonating in her mind to _never engage the Legion in close combat - what might seem like an opening for you is them luring you in closer. _The skill of Legion in melee was renowned and the cause of death for many NCR soldiers caught unawares. Her mind ran over where the mines were placed but something told her she couldn't outrun this man, not to mention that to get to the mines she would have to go through him anyway. She backed out farther into the street, hoping to pull him into Boone's sights again. From the corner of her eye she could see Veronica twisting the neck on the last Legionary, a pile of corpses surrounding her in a morbid circle. A glance to the General Store roof yielded no sign of Boone, and she panicked, wondering where he was.

Vulpes moved towards her, recovered. He had a ripper in his hand and even Veronica backed off when she saw it, the reach of the weapon obviously an advantage over her powerfist. He turned it on and the whirring noise filled the air as he advanced on them slowly.

"Oh Riley!" Veronica called out in a sing-song tone as they both backed away. "Now would be a good time to shoot the guy!"

"Lost my gun," Riley sang back. Her foot hit the bottom step of the porch to the Town Hall. "Where's Boone?"

As if in answer, Vulpes dropped to the ground, a bullet hole through his head. The girls turned to see Boone emerging from behind a building, rifle still drawn. He strode purposefully to the corpse of the Frumentarii leader, and shot him again for good measure. The ripper was still whirring in his lifeless hand and Boone bent to turn it off before facing them.

"You didn't keep them in range," he said, eyes on Riley. She swallowed.

"Yeah, well. You know, heat of the moment-" she trailed off lamely. He watched her silently.

"They wouldn't have hurt you."

She wanted to point out that they didn't know that for certain, and theories being just that, _theories_, she wasn't too keen on proving anything right or wrong by taking a few extra steps. She didn't however, because she knew that wasn't what he was trying to say. He was trying to say he wouldn't have _let_ them hurt her, and she had no reason to be afraid.

She sighed, shaking her head, unwilling to get into a discussion on just how much of a coward she was, and turned away to search for her gun. She had done substantially well, she'd thought, all things considered. She hadn't ran, and that right there was a god damn success story as far as she was concerned.

Veronica was already looting the bodies, and after finding her weapon Riley moved to help. There was a small quandary where they debated what to do with the armour before Riley declared that caps were caps, and Boone left them to strip the corpses while he did a sweep of the remaining houses.

They tackled the Town Hall as a group, moving room to room, taking out dogs and radroaches as they moved up the floors. Each floor yielded more dead civilians, some set with mines that Boone moved to disarm. Some lay there, a silent and dead narrative of their last moments written in their surroundings that laid a somber mood over their group.

"And what about them?" Veronica asked once they were back outside, their packs full and heavy with the spoils of a slaughter that wasn't theirs. She was gesturing at the few remaining crucified convicts lined up down the street. Riley looked up at Boone, who nodded grimly, and they moved forward together.

"No good," Boone shook his head, staring up at the first man. Riley's stomach churned because she knew where this was headed. The man was bloodied all over, head down, breath shallow. He was sunburned and his lips were cracked from dehydration. Blood dripped from his wrists and she realized he'd been nailed to the cross before the ropes were added.

"We can't take them down?" Veronica asked sadly. "We have stims."

"The way they were strung up," Riley explained quietly, turning away. "We take them down they'll bleed out fast."

"So... what then?" Veronica folded her arms. "We leave them up there?"

In answer, Boone took out his sidearm, checking the clip and sliding it back into place. Veronica looked wide-eyed at Riley, and she could only give a terse nod while she took out her own gun. Veronica did the same, grimacing as Boone walked up to one of the men, raised his gun, and fired a single shot. Simple.

Riley gestured at Boone to watch Veronica shoot in case she missed, and moved down the road to the farthest cross. She didn't exactly want an audience for this.

_She shook on the ground, sobs racking her body as they brought the whip to Noah again. The snap of leather against flesh and Noah's pained cries and the centurion's demands for her to **watch **were deafening in her ears, filling her head with pain and her mouth with bile and her stomach with acid. When she failed to lift her eyes to see the canvas they had painted for her they twisted a hand in her hair and dragged her to her ungrateful feet, forcing her head up to watch as they cauterized the wounds with a flaming sword, and then they began again._

The convict watched her approach through one bleary black eye, the other having swollen shut. He seemed to relax, maybe understanding that she was going to end his suffering for him. He didn't speak, didn't ask for forgiveness; whatever crime he committed was no longer important. Release from agony, death – she could see it in his gaze, the acceptance – that was the important thing here. She planted her feet in front of him, took her stance, and aimed.

"_Don't let them break you," Noah croaked to her on the fourth day. She stared up at him, eyes wide and unblinking, face devoid of any emotion. The centurions were watching from a few yards away, always watching, and she'd stopped reacting days ago, unable to find a wellspring of tears to replenish what she had already spent. Now they were just letting her watch while he wasted away, occasionally forcing a meagre meal in front of her or escorting her to use the facilities. _

_She couldn't recognize him anymore. Her partner. The army fatigues hung from his body in tattered strips. His chest and legs covered in the myriad of half-healed oozing wounds that lay open under the Mojave sun. She could smell the thick, pungent odour of human waste. His curly, sandy blonde hair was caked with blood, red rivulets still dripping in thick succession to the ground below from a wound to his head that refused to close. _

_But his eyes were still the same. Kind and blue and focused - even now - on her while he spoke._

"_Don't let them break you."_

She pulled the trigger.


	10. I gotta journey on

When Riley was a child, her father taught her a trick to use whenever she couldn't sleep.

"You count the stars," he'd told her, after she'd stumbled to his sleeping roll in the middle of the night. It didn't work too well, no matter how many times she tried, but being an obedient six year old she did it anyways, spending night after night picking out constellations, eventually losing her count and starting over. As she grew older, it became apparent that her father knew dick-all about trying to fall asleep - bless his heart - and it became less of a mockery of a sleep aid and more of a distraction, a way to pass the time on the road at night and clear her head.

When she set out on her own as a Courier at the tender age of sixteen, it became a way for her to remember her parents while she travelled. There was a method she'd developed, using her fingers to frame a box above her head. She'd count what was in the box, relax her hands for a few minutes, and start again with a new area.

Right now, laying on a picnic table in the back of the Mojave Outpost, she was on star number three hundred and forty-two.

They had made it to the Outpost shortly before midnight, signed in, and then went about the unwanted business of giving the report about Nipton to Ghost. The sniper had sworn up a storm and then - to the news that they had wiped out the Legion party that did it - swore up another one and promised to put in a good word for Riley with the higher-ups.

Three hundred and forty-three. Three hundred and forty-four.

It was far too late and she was far too tired to go looking for the owner of Cassidy Caravans, but she had decided to check out the bar anyways before trying for sleep. Lacey was closing up shop for the night when she stepped in, but she knew Riley from her work as a Courier. - she travelled through the Outpost frequently - and directed her to a woman passed out on the counter, hand still firmly wrapped around a bottle of whiskey. Riley decided it could wait until morning.

Three hundred and forty-

"What are you doing?"

She jerked and lost her spot. God dammit. She dropped her hands in frustration and lolled her head to the side, looking at Boone through tired eyes. He still had his beret and sunglasses on. It was past midnight and he still had his sunglasses on. What the hell.

"Why are you still wearing those?" she half-groaned, rubbing at her eyes.

"Habit," he replied. But he took them off anyway, carefully tucking them away so they were hanging off the hem of his collar. He looked… odd without them, she decided, feeling ridiculously triumphant that he'd taken them off. Triumphant and emboldened.

"And your beret," she said, sitting up. "Take it off."

"I don't think so."

Aw.

"Yeah, I never took mine off either," she smiled, a little sadly. "Back when I still had one I mean. Anyways. What are you doing up?" She stretched out her legs, swinging them around so that she was facing him properly.

"Same as you."

"I was counting stars. So unless you can tell me how many stars are in the Big Dipper I am going to have to call bullshit on you," she wagged a finger at him. He stared at her silently and she slumped her shoulders, sighing, running her hand over her face. Two days. She'd known him two days and she was already highly aware that his big moments of silence spoke volumes. Right now, it was saying _I'm not going away until you answer _and she wasn't sure if she could meet that challenge_. _"Yeah. Okay. You caught me. I can't sleep. Call the MPs." She held out her hands, wrists together, in mock surrender.

He shook his head, folding his arms in front of him and shifting his weight to the other foot. "Figured. You've been quiet since we left Nipton."

"Me being quiet isn't exactly earth shattering," she pointed out, dropping her hands. "When Veronica starts pulling the silent treatment, then it's time to worry." She yawned just then, wide and long, and she peered at Boone through one eye as she covered her mouth. He waited, watching with one raised brow.

"You seem tired enough," he said when she was done.

"Shut up," she yawned again. "S'different."

He shrugged. "Okay."

"And I don't see _you_ sleeping. What's your big excuse?" she demanded, yawning again. God dammit.

He shook his head. "I asked you first."

"Technically you didn't."

"I'm asking now."

She laughed through a yawn, which was awkward and made her laugh some more while he stood and waited for an answer. Ghost appeared in her peripheral, peering over the rooftop for the source of noise she was making. Riley gave her a wave and the ranger nodded, turning around back to her post. Another yawning fit hit and she cursed inwardly. Weren't yawns supposed to be contagious? Why the hell wasn't Boone yawning? Bastard.

"Answer for an answer?" she offered, finally able to get her words out. His posture went rigid, and she smiled sleepily, predicting a blunt refusal or the image of his back as he walked away. Then she could get back to what she was doing, which was _not _thinking about what he was trying to get out of her.

"Depends," he replied finally. "On what you want to know. Sharing isn't really my thing."

"Shocker," she gave a wry smile, teeth flashing in the darkness. "I dunno. Let me think on it."

"If you want," he said slowly. "Now why aren't you sleeping?"

She grimaced. This wasn't going as planned; she hadn't really expected him to go along with it. She was banking on his anti-social tendencies to let her off the hook but apparently that was not the case. She began to see Boone in a new light: motherfucking relentless. Which, when you considered his primary goal of the destruction of the Legion, was a great trait to have. Right at this moment however, with him prying into things she wanted left alone, she was viewing it much like an approaching cazador: difficult to kill and persistent as hell.

"I can't sleep," she started lamely - as if this was something embarrassing and because it was obvious he wasn't going to leave her alone short of her snapping at him, and she _really_ didn't want to resort to that. "Because… today I remembered things I didn't particularly want refreshed."

"Your partner?" he guessed, surprising her. But then, she'd told him about that the night before, hadn't she? She nodded, looking down at her hands.

"All I can see when I close my eyes is him up on the cross. It's not-" she sighed, rubbing her hands over her face, determined to keep the fatigue from showing. "It's not a big deal. I've dealt with this before. It won't affect how I work, so you don't have to worry."

"It will if you don't get some sleep," he pointed out. She paused, glaring at him through her fingers as irritation flared.

"You know, I could pull the same shtick with you," she declared, dropping her hands in a fit of annoyance. "See how you like it."

"That's fair," he shrugged. "Answer for an answer, right? Can't you-" he paused, as if trying to figure out the right words without offending her. "Can't you picture him doing something else?"

"What, like dancing?" she snorted derisively.

He sighed, moving to sit next to her on the table but still keeping a good distance between them. She watched him warily while he got comfortable, shifting his legs and resting his elbows on his thighs. "That's… sort of what I meant. What was his name?" he tried again, looking over at her in that quiet, patient way of his.

"Why?" she asked suspiciously.

He regarded her as if she was suddenly very simple minded. "Because I might have known him. I worked with Bravo and Delta at Hoover Dam." She hadn't thought of that, she realized. The idea that Boone might have known Noah was a strange concept, like merging two very different, separate worlds. Kind and affable Noah - with the easy gait and the quick wit - working side by side with stoic and quiet Boone, a man on a suicide mission, hellbent on revenge. They were on such opposite ends of the spectrum that merging the two would be akin to trying to force two magnets together. She just couldn't see it working.

"What?" he demanded, and she realized she'd been frowning in disbelief.

"Uh, nothing. I just… can't see you two uh… talking much."

He gave a quirk of his brow. "You never told me his name."

She blinked. "Um. Noah."

He nodded, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting up beside her. She watched the way the smoke curled up, fascinated despite herself by the way he held the cigarette between his fingers. "Noah Wilson?" He asked. Her eyes lit up and she found herself sitting up straighter, suddenly more attentive. _What were the odds?_ she thought. Boone nodded again. "I knew him. Played poker with him a few times while we were stationed at the Dam. He was a good guy. A good soldier. Curly hair? Blue eyes. Southpaw."

She laughed abruptly. "Yeah that's him. He was shit at poker, though," she remembered, pressing fingers to her lips as the memories came back to her. "Had a shit poker face. You'd think for a military man he could keep emotion off his face but he was just so easy to read." Her grin widened as she considered the man beside her. "I bet you'd be pretty good at poker."

"I am," he agreed, taking another drag on the cigarette, flicking the ashes away. "Easiest money I ever made came from Wilson."

"No shit?" She grinned. "How much did you take him for?" She could see it easily, Noah throwing his cards down with another losing hand. He never swore, in the year that she worked with him she'd never heard him say anything stronger than 'dammit', and even then it was a god damn rarity. So when he lost, she never saw him get upset. Instead, he'd say something about a chip and a chair and then get dealt in again. She tried to picture Boone being smug as he collected his winnings but it was just too foreign for her. She didn't know him well enough. She didn't think she'd seen him so much as crack a smile yet.

"At least five hundred. NCR money," he shrugged. "Easier to carry around."

"You'd think he would have learned," she shook her head, still smiling. "He still owed me money when he- when-" her smile faltered and she looked away, focusing on the backlit statues of the united Rangers while she tried to keep herself composed. "It doesn't matter," she breathed.

"It worked though," he said. She looked back at him, frowning, confusion written on her face, and he explained. "For a little bit there. You didn't see him on the cross."

It was true. It was easier to think of him sitting around a poker table glaring at the cards in his hand as if they'd wronged him somehow instead of up on a cross bleeding out under the Mojave sun. And she had Boone to thank for it, even if it was only for a few moments. So she smiled.

"Guess it did," she agreed. "Thanks."

He nodded, pushing himself off the table. He seemed to deliberate between something as he stood there, smoking idly. "Wanted to ask you another question," he said finally. Her eyebrows rose.

"That is two questions, you realize," she pointed out with a wry smile.

Apparently he didn't care. He took a deep bracing breath. "Been wondering… how you escaped the Legion."

Her smile froze. She could understand why he would ask; it was all too apparent by the painful tremor in his voice. It was the same tone he used in Novac, plaintively asking her to wait and hear him out. He wanted to know because of Carla. Because Riley was in the same situation and she got out. Because if there was a chance Carla could have escaped, he wanted to know about it.

But she couldn't. She didn't want to raise his hopes because her escape was so ridiculously reliant on a single, horrifying event, the chances of that happening again were slim to none. Besides, she'd only known Boone two days. Did she really want him knowing that she'd used someone's death like that? Or the fact that she hadn't given a single thought to any of the other captives when she ran? He was supposed to trust her with his back. What sort of impression would that make? Opportunistic. Selfish. Cowardly.

She swallowed and met his gaze, her smile still plastered on her face. Only now it felt forced. "Luck."

His expression made it clear that that was not a good enough answer. What had she said earlier about him being relentless? Shit.

She pushed herself off the table, intent on escape, putting distance between them with a few steps towards the barracks. Boone made to follow and she whirled on him, the image of a cazador still buzzing in her mind. "No. Leave that alone, okay? I can only get into so much shit in one night and that is not something I want to get into with you right now."

She didn't wait for an answer, just turned and walked away, and Boone didn't follow.


	11. Where I'll find the things I have lost

**Author's Note: **_Behold! My longest chapter yet. I got this little program that makes typewriter clacky sounds when I type. Best. Fix. For writer's block. Ever. Also! I'm off to the mountains for a little vacation with my girlfriends, so writing time will be limited when I get back. Next chapter might be a wee bit delayed. I want to thank all my lovely reviewers! Every review I get makes me smile like a big dork, so thank you! :3 Enjoy! Review if you like, etc etc. See you all when I get back!_

* * *

Cass had proven difficult to persuade. She'd chosen some colourful language and given some choice instructions about what to do with McLafferty's offer that left Riley slightly at a loss for words and more than a little pissed off - and worse, stranded. Without that signature she wasn't getting paid.

She spent the next few days dragging Veronica and Boone around doing odd jobs for the NCR while she tried to think of ways to convince Cass to part with her apparently defunct company. Her current strategy was bribery - fattening McLafferty's offer with caps out of her own pocket - and it was one she wasn't exactly enthusiastic to rely on because it meant emptying her pouch of all the caps she'd earned so far, effectively resetting her entire Vegas fund. Which, really when she thought about it, was an absolute shit strategy.

So they murdered ants, cleaned up Primm and then for lack of anything else to do, explored every nook and cranny that Riley could find off the I-15 while she scavenged for things to sell. Veronica took her role as scavenging master with great flourish, teaching Riley everything she knew, what had value and turning whatever else that didn't into something that did with her sack of tools. She didn't have any compunctions about stopping in the middle of the road to whip up a makeshift explosive to blow up Powder Gangers, and Riley loved her all the more for it.

She also found herself increasingly intrigued by Boone. His link to Noah had both surprised and fascinated her, and she spent countless hours entertaining herself imagining conversations between the two of them. Sadly, even in her imagination, Boone didn't say too much, but it was easier to imagine Noah grinning and trying to coax conversation out of her new stoic partner than it was to see him up on the cross.

They were clearing out a pack of geckos when Riley sidled up to Boone.

"I still get to ask you a question, right?" she asked, lowering her weapon. Boone paused in his aim, instead letting Veronica take out the last gecko with an awkward downward jab, and looked over at her with a slightly incredulous expression on his face.

"Now?"

"Humour me," she grinned, adjusting her sunglasses. She'd picked them up a few days ago off one of the Powder Gangers in Primm. "When did you retire, exactly?"

He frowned. "Late in '78."

She nodded, satisfied, and gestured for them to push on while she thought about that. The hill they were climbing led into a secluded niche in the cliff-side, a distant refrigerator surrounded by bear traps visible if she squinted. Riley could hear the warbling call of more geckos over the ridge and Veronica made a face as they caught up to her.

"Can't we just go back and punch the guy who sent us up here? I'm not the only one who realizes this is a trap, right?"

Riley shouldered her rifle, wiping sweat from her brow while she looked over at the Scribe with a smug look of knowing. "He's after something up here. I wanna know what it is."

"You mean you want whatever it is to sell," Veronica corrected her.

"That, too," she shrugged. "Beggers can't be choosers."

"I think I've created a monster," Veronica said, nudging Boone with a grin. He grunted, but didn't say anything as they trailed after her.

Later, with the stripped body of Barton Thorn behind her and her pack just a little heavier, Riley declared that they were having gecko for lunch and that Veronica was cooking. It had been discovered a few days ago that Veronica was a phenomenal cook. While Riley could muster up a decent dish herself, it was nothing compared to what Veronica could do with gecko, some jalapenos, and a little ingenuity.

Boone took up a spot to watch the road while Veronica worked and Riley took the time to reorganize her pack, keeping her Pip-Boy's radio on so the silence wasn't so grating. She soon got bored of that, however, instead shoving everything in with a frustrated flourish, and wandered over to where Boone was sitting.

"Soooo… '78, huh?" she started as she came up behind him. He glanced at her over his shoulder.

"What about it?"

"Why'd you retire?" she plopped down next to him, breaking out a water bottle and twisting off the cap. She took a long drink before offering him some, smiling slightly at the expected jerk of his head as he refused.

He gave a weary sigh and looked back towards the road. "Had enough of war."

"Were you at Bittersprings? That was back in '78, wasn't it?"

He became very still. "I think it was."

"Were you there?" she pressed.

He gave a considerable pause before replying. "I don't remember."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," she rolled her shoulders, stretching out her legs with a groan. "You've got eyes like a god damn hawk, never miss a damn detail."

He worked his jaw irritably. "Yeah, I was there," he snapped, glaring over at her. "What about it?"

"Just explains a few things about you, I guess," she shrugged. "Got the short story from Noah, but Bravo wasn't on that mission and I joined in '79. He read the report, though." She bit the inside of her cheek, debating. "You wanna tell me the full story?"

He looked away. "Not really."

She considered him for a moment. "What do I gotta do to get the full story?"

"What does it matter?" He demanded. "You know the gist of it."

She gave a small cynical laugh. "Thought it might help to understand you a bit better. You're a little hard to read. Since you're my spotter, that's sort of an issue for me."

He was silent for a while, eyes trained on the road while Riley quietly drank her water beside him. Just when she thought he wasn't going to say anything and she considered dropping the subject, he shook his head slightly, as if coming to a conclusion.

"Maybe if we get back to doing what I joined you for," he suggested with a sigh. "Maybe I'll tell you what happened. I didn't join you to hunt geckos, walk into poorly laid traps so you can loot a fridge."

She hid a smile. "I sound a little compulsive when you put it that way."

"A little." The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. It was the closest she'd seen him come to a smile all week, and she found herself struggling to not feel pride at that. Instead, she focused her attentions on some bare threads coming off the knee of her pants, tugging at them idly while she forced herself to sound nonchalant.

"So that's the deal? We kill some legion, you tell me what really happened?"

He glanced at her. "If it'll get us back on track, sure."

She pursed her lips. "I still have my own score to settle, you know. I can't let that go before anything else."

"That's fair. And your score with the Legion?"

"That's—" she paused. She hadn't really considered a 'score' with the Legion, had never thought getting even was an option. Who did she target if it was? Aurelius Phoenix? The legionnaires with the whips that worked on Noah? The centurion that pulled her from the cage, dragged her to one of the bathroom stalls?

She rubbed her palms over her legs anxiously, looking away from Boone. "That's a new concept for me, I guess."

"Something to consider."

She nodded, eyes vacant, then smiled abruptly. "We've got a weird information exchange going on, you know that? What am I gonna have to do to find out your favourite colour?"

He rolled his eyes and pushed himself to his feet. "It's red. Come on, food smells done."

Food _was_ done, and it was delicious. Veronica beamed with pride as they inhaled it and Riley declared it an off-road masterpiece. Boone helped with dishes as he always did, something Riley found amusing but never commented on, and then they were making their way back to the Outpost.

"It's been a week," Veronica said between gulps of water. They were somewhere in between Primm and the Outpost, Riley taking them once again on another 'shortcut' off the roads. The sun was beating down on them and Riley wondered how the Scribe stayed cool in her potato sack robe. "Think she's changed her mind?"

"Doubt it," Riley made a face. "Asked her every god damn day since we got here. I'm waiting for her to start swinging, actually."

"Thinking of still fronting more caps for her signature?" Veronica asked. "We've pulled in a lot."

"No," Riley replied. "It's stupid. A stupid idea. McLafferty's paying me five hundred for this. I front more caps than that for her signature on selling a company that's not even operational? I don't think so." She gave a long sigh, glancing over at Boone. "Maybe you two come with me this time. Back me up? Yesterday almost came to blows."

"We do go with you," Boone pointed out.

"Yeah, but you sit on the other side of the bar and watch her swear at me from a distance," Riley retorted. "Not really back up. What am I paying you for, anyway?" she teased. "Not your conversational skills." Boone glared at her, and her grin widened.

"I'm serious," she said. "I know I'm annoying her, but I can't drop this. She might start swinging, so just… I want you both there, okay?"

"You gonna knee her in the face?" Veronica grinned. Riley hid a smile as Boone's frown deepened.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Cass was well into her third drink when Riley plopped herself onto the stool next to her. A glance at Lacey got a shrug and an eyeroll; it wasn't even three in the afternoon for Christ's sake. Veronica and Boone were hanging back, as usual. They'd found a spot on the wall to lean against and look unobtrusive until Riley needed them, though at least this time they were significantly closer than they'd been all week.

"How's it going?"

"You again?" Cass sighed, glancing sideways at her as she finished her drink. "You're fucking persistent, I'll give you that. But my answer's the same as it's always been. Always gonna be, too." She gave Riley a pointed glare and gestured at her with her empty glass. "And you can tell that McLafferty bitch the same thing so she can stop sniffing around. Cassidy Caravans ain't for sale."

"Just hear me out," Riley gave a forced smile. "It's all I'm asking, and I'll buy you a drink for your time."

"Well shit," Cass smirked. "Never been one to turn down a free drink. Not gonna change anything though. Lacey!" Cass tapped her glass on the counter. "One more. Her tab."

"I'll take the same," Riley ordered, fishing out the caps and slapping them on the counter. Lacey served up two glasses of whiskey and placed them in front of the women without a word. It was strong, and not something Riley usually drank. She never could get behind whiskey unless it was mixed with something, but hell if she didn't want to lose face in front of Cass when she was trying to broker a deal. She watched as Cass practically inhaled hers, impressed despite herself.

"Deal's still on the table," Riley started, taking another sip and trying not to choke on it. "You sign and take the receipt to the Crimson Caravan for your caps. Hell, I'll take you there myself. Armed escort."

"This still smells hinky to me," Cass told her wearily. "I don't know what McLafferty told you, or what she's paying you. Don't really give a shit, if you wanna get down to it, but this is some grade A brahminshit. Cassidy Caravans is done. I have nothing left. Why would she try buying me out now?"

"I don't know. I'm just the hired help. What are you gonna do?" Riley demanded, frustrated. "Sit here for the rest of your god damn life drinking away the rest of your caps?"

"Jackson will open the gates-"

"Un-fucking-likey," Riley snorted, downing her whiskey in one. She pulled a face as she coughed, thumping on her chest as she choked the drink down. "Not until this shit with the Legion gets resolved and who knows how long that'll take. Best thing for you to do is sign the damn thing so you can leave this place and get on with your life. Your company is dead anyway, why not pull a profit off it?"

Cass's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Fuck the Legion," Cass declared, swinging around in her seat so she could get into Riley's face properly. "And fuck you. I'm not signing shit." Riley slammed her glass down and stood up, eyes hard and pissed off. Cass followed suit, her hat falling off in the process while she shoved her face into Riley's, nostrils flaring. The effect was less intimidating than it probably should have been as Riley had a few inches on the other woman, but the threat was still there and Riley felt her muscles tense in anticipation of a fight.

Veronica chose that moment to step in, one hand on each of their shoulders as she forced them both apart. The bar and its few patrons had grown quiet, all eyes on the two women. Lacey stopped wiping the glass she had in her hand, and folded her arms, annoyed.

"Calm down, the both of you," Veronica ordered, her voice firm and quiet.

"Then tell this-"

"Fuck you!" Cass spat. "I owe my men more than what you're asking. I've got my pride."

Any other time, Riley could have easily accepted that and apologized, realizing she crossed a line. But a week's worth of frustration at getting absolutely _nowhere_ closer to getting that chip back was gnawing at her, combined that with the shot of liquor and she threw reason out the window, finding herself instead livid and shoving against Veronica's hold. "Pride? All I see is a fucking washed up dru-"

That was it. She'd done it. Cass elbowed Veronica aside and launched herself at Riley, screaming a string of profanities as they went flying. Hoots and hollers went up as Riley was knocked to the ground, cries of 'Cat fight!' barely registering as Cass straddled her and she struggled to block a series of blows to her face. Cass got a few hits in before directing the punches to her ribcage instead and she cried out. In a display of profound maturity, she managed to grab a chunk of Cass' hair and yanked her to the side, hitting her head on one of the stools. Cass wobbled slightly while Riley marvelled at her luck.

By this time, Boone managed to step in, dragging Riley out from under Cass and pulling her to her feet. She tried pushing past him to get at Cass but he kept her in place, searing her with a stern glare. She huffed, but didn't argue as he checked her over briefly for injuries, making sure to keep himself in between her and the angry redhead while he turned her face up, down and to the sides. She'd gotten a few good bruises and a split lip, but was otherwise fine. Veronica was using an arm lock on Cass to keep her from attacking again and Lacey had had enough. She slapped her towel down onto the counter, eyes wide and furious as she pointed towards the door.

"Out! Get out! All of you, now, before I get Jackson in here!"

"I'm fine," Riley batted Boone's hand away, irritated. She glared at Cass over his shoulder.

"Now!" Lacey repeated.

She turned on her heel, stalking out of the bar and the rest of them followed. A small round of applause went up for Cass as Veronica hauled her out the door, Cass swearing up an unholy litany the entire time.

"Some back up!" Riley spat once outside, whirling on them. Her ribs were aching and she was sure she'd be sore for a few days.

"I didn't take my power fist off," Veronica said, straining to keep a struggling Cass still. "Thought you might still like her with her head intact."

"Right at this moment?" Riley sneered. Veronica rolled her eyes.

"Let me go!" Cass demanded.

"Just sign the god damn paper!" Riley ordered. "Then I can leave you and this shithole behind and get back to what I'm actually supposed to be doing!"

"I told you I'm not signing shit!"

Riley huffed out a breath, turning to Boone. "If I shoot her, you think I'll get in trouble?"

He stared at her. "Probably. Maybe you should calm down."

She glared at him, but turned away, clenching and unclenching her fists while she tried to regain some semblance of composure. He was right. Frustration had gotten the better of her. She should have known better, should have expected Cass to reply aggressively because that's what she'd done _all week_. She had to get her anger under control, focus on what she was here to do, which was not killing civilians because they had a tendency to run their mouths while drunk.

But hell if that didn't seem like a great option at this point.

"Okay," she turned back to where Veronica was still holding Cass in place. A few soldiers were standing around, watching them curiously. "Let her go," she ordered. "We're going to talk. Just—" she held up her hands at Veronica's incredulous look. "Just talk, I swear."

Veronica loosened her hold and Cass yanked herself free, breathing heavily and pushing her tousled hair back out of her eyes. She glared at Riley.

"You fight like a girl."

Veronica covered her mouth so she wouldn't laugh.

"Jesus Christ," Riley grabbed Cass by the arm and hauled her over to the picnic tables. "Sit," she ordered, releasing her. Cass sat. Riley took the seat next to her and took a deep breath, trying to organize her thoughts. Cass took the time to fix her hair while she waited, her hand motions irritated and jerky. It occurred to Riley that this was the first time she'd seen Cass outside since they arrived at the Outpost a week prior. And sure, they'd been traipsing up and down the I-15 all week but they'd stayed most nights and mornings at the Mojave Outpost; every time, Cass had been without fail inside the bar.

"How long have you been here?" Riley asked. "Stuck, at this outpost, because of your Caravan license."

"A month," Cass replied, her tone suspicious. "Why?

"Do you have any idea what I've done in a god damn week? Because I'm not stuck _here _like _some people_ I know?"

Cass threw up her hands. "Fucked if I know."

"Exactly, because you've been stuck. Here. Because you won't put your pride aside and realize that you're wasting away. Here. Hell! I've made like a thousand caps cleaning up Primm's little Powder Ganger problem and getting them annexed and protected while you've been drinking away what caps you have left. Here."

Cass rolled her eyes. "Okay. You've made your point. You're a god damn hero."

"Why won't you sign the contract?" Riley wanted to know. "You're holding yourself back when you could be out there, doing _anything_ else instead of getting into bar brawls with the courier who's trying to get you out."

Cass snorted. "You know, I highly doubt you're doing this for _my_ benefit."

"A given," Riley smiled slightly. "But do you really want to stay here? Seriously."

"No," Cass sighed again. She was sounded more and more defeated with every word. "No, I don't." She looked down at her hands and Riley waited while Cass seemed to deflate beside her before giving a final slump of her shoulders. "Alright. You win. Give me the damn contract."

Success! She refrained from breathing a sigh of relief as she pulled out the papers, watching as Cass penned her signature, folded it up, and handed it back. Riley tucked it away, wondering why the hell she hadn't thought of this before she'd gotten clocked in the face. Cass stood up, rubbing at the back of her neck while she turned and faced Riley.

"You said you'd take me to Crimson Caravan earlier. That offer still open?"

Riley eyed her. "I dunno, you gonna attack me again?"

"Not with your two bodyguards over there," Cass smirked, looking over at Veronica and Boone. Veronica was talking animatedly while Boone kept his eyes on Cass, apparently not satisfied that the threat was alleviated. "Girl seems like she knows what she's doing. Who's the soldier? Seen him trailing behind you all week. Doesn't say much."

"That's Boone. He's ex-First Recon, like me. Girl's Veronica. She's Brotherhood."

Cass blew out a whistle. "Interesting group of friends you got. First Recon, you say?"

"Yeah."

"You don't really look the type."

Riley raised one brow. "Meaning?"

"Pretty, blonde, young," Cass regarded her shrewdly. "Don't they make you cut your hair in the army?"

She barked out a laugh, surprised that they'd gone from brawling to talking about hair. "I've had time to grow it out since I was discharged. You serious about coming with us?" She asked, waving Boone and Veronica over. Cass tilted her head, smiling slightly.

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"You two work everything out?" Veronica gave them both a stern look as she walked up. "I don't want to have to separate you two again."

Riley grinned. "Yes, mom. Everything's worked out. I got her to sign it."

Veronica nodded. "Good. I've said this before, but you sure have a way with people. First Boone, now her."

Riley had the good grace to look sheepish. "I've got luck in everything but people?"

Cass gave Boone a bewildered raise of her eyebrows. "You attacked your partner?"

Boone sighed, turning to Riley. "Are you done? Wasted enough time here."

"Yeah," she stood. "We're done. We'll make for New Vegas. She's coming with us, by the way."

Veronica exchanged glances with Boone. "Uh. No offense, but you sure that's… wise? You two haven't exactly played nicely."

"Please, I kneed Boone in the face and look how well we get along now."

Boone rubbed at his eyes underneath his shades. "Can we just go? Or are we leaving in the morning?"

Riley glanced at her Pip-Boy. "It's not even four. We can leave now. Make a late arrival in Novac or Ranger Station Charlie. If, you know, that's okay with everyone."

"Fine by me," Cass shrugged.

They took the time to restock their supplies and ammo, and Cass surprised Riley by getting them better deals with the merchants. Apparently, the merchants had been laughing all week over drinks about the 'easy' Courier practically giving away her fission batteries. Bastards.

"You're handling our bartering from now on," Riley muttered as they left the Outpost. Cass gave a wry smile.

"You gonna pay me for my services?"

"I'm keeping you and your gun fed and giving you a prime escort to Crimson Caravan," Riley pointed out. "Not everyone can say they got escorted by ex-First Recon snipers. Least you could do is get me the better deals." She took off her rucksack as they walked, pulling and adjusting the straps to a more comfortable length.

Cass glanced over her shoulder to where Boone and Veronica trailed behind. "That's all well and good. But I wouldn't mind a go with your sniper boy, to be honest."

Riley fumbled with her bag, almost dropping it while Cass regarded her with a sly smile. "Wh- Boone? Uh… I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why?" Cass raised an eyebrow. "You two fucking?"

"What? No!" Riley replied, a little louder than necessary. Veronica and Boone stopped talking and gave them a questioning look, and after their brawl earlier, Riley didn't want them stomping up and asking questions. She sighed and waved them off, slinging her bag back onto her shoulders. "No," she said again, quieter this time. "Just… he's not- I just don't think-" she took a deep breath and tried again. "He's got some heavy baggage."

"Don't we all? Sometimes a good fuck helps with that," Cass shrugged. Riley groaned.

"Not this baggage. Trust me. Just don't, okay? He's got enough issues without a sex-craved vixen hounding him."

Cass' gaze turned shrewd, eyeing Riley suspiciously. "You're mighty protective of him. You sure you're not interested?"

"Fuck's sake!" Riley threw up her hands. She was regretting this already. "He's my partner! You don't mix business with pleasure. I have to have his back and this… just isn't a good idea. I don't want him more messed up than he already is. He comes onto you, that's something different entirely and you have my blessing to fuck like rabbits. But otherwise you keep your hands off my god damn spotter."

"Alright, alright!" Cass held up her hands in surrender. "I won't touch him. Yeesh."

After that, she didn't speak much as they made their way down the hill, weaving in and out of rusted hulls of metal. Cass pulled back to talk with Veronica, leaving her to her thoughts, which were, unfortunately, still on their conversation. _Would_ Boone be open to Cass' advances? She gnawed on her lip, realizing she never really gave much thought to Boone's situation after they left Novac, at least not until Cass threatened to fuck Boone's brains out.

It was clear to Riley that Boone was still hung up on his wife. On the other hand, she had no idea how long it had been since Carla was taken by Legion, so she couldn't say for sure what his reaction would be to being approached. She couldn't say 'since Carla died', because she was still uncertain how Boone would know that. Instead, she figured Boone had simply accepted his wife as dead because the odds of rescuing her were quite frankly slim to none. They would have to find out who bought her, where they were, launch a rescue mission deep into Legion territory with low chances of success. Not to mention there was the issue of his child…

Yeah, she could see why Boone would prefer thinking of her as dead. It was probably just easier that way to accept that he could do nothing for her.

Still…

_The girl was naked up on the podium, crying and pretty and pregnant..._

For the first time since Novac, she thought of the girl. A gunman had taken her down, and not many people could make that sort of long distance shot except—

She raised her head, eyes wide while things clicked inside her head. Except… for maybe a sniper. She glanced over her shoulder to where Boone was fending off a barrage of Veronica's questions, dread and suspicion and just plain old curiosity welling up inside her.

Was it possible?


	12. I've come a long long road

**Author's Note: **_Sorry for the delay! I'm back! And the next updates should happen either within the next few days if I'm feeling generous, or at the very least on time next update. The next few chapters were actually written uh__… months ago? These were the first I'd written for the story at all, mostly because it actually happened in my playthrough on Hardcore mode, leaving me to limp all the way to Novac while my companions kept me alive. It was a slow and torturous process and a learning experience since I found out only owned beds heal broken limbs on Hardcore mode. -.- Stupid Vipers._

_Thank you for reading! And as always, review you like!_

* * *

Thoughts about whether or not Boone could be the gunman at Cottonwood preoccupied Riley for the next few hours. She looked at what she knew. One, a girl died by sniper fire at Cottonwood, and she was pregnant. Two, Boone was a sniper, and his pregnant wife had been taken by the Legion. Just looking at it like that, it was easy to see why anyone might think it was him, but was she grasping at straws? Trying to force a connection when there wasn't one? Looking for answers when there were none to be had? She didn't even know _when _Carla had been taken, and had so far thought it tactless to ask.

Besides. The Legion enslaved hundreds, she told herself, and they _went out of their way_ to get their hands on pregnant women, or women who'd already had children. The ability to reproduce successfully in the Wasteland, usually a daunting task with the radiation and lack of reliable medical services, was a commodity to the Legion. After all, it was better to raise Legionaries than to convert them.

She thought about asking Boone. It would be a simple thing to settle the matter. A yes or no and she could move on with her life. All she had to do was get Boone to give her intimate details on the matter of his wife's death. Easy, right?

She sighed. No. Dammit, no. He wouldn't even tell her about Bittersprings. Sure, they'd taken out the Legion at Nipton, but other than that all they'd done was hunt poorly armed convicts and geckos. One week of relative unimportant battle at Boone's side did not a bosom buddy make.

She was so preoccupied in her thoughts that she didn't realize where she was leading them until Boone pulled her up short. A quick glance around showed her they'd passed Nipton and instead of going through the hills like she'd meant to in order to save time, she'd just blindly followed the road and was now facing a winding concrete death trap littered with metal husks.

Shit.

"I don't like it." Boone's eyes scanned the hills above them. High hills and cliffs on both sides, with old vehicles littering the pavement around them. The road curved to the left, blocking visibility, which was already dismal in the dusky light. This was just asking for an ambush.

"Gotta admit, if I were a raider, this would be prime pickings," Cass whispered quietly. Riley couldn't help but agree, but the fact was they were losing light - backtracking to take their route through the hills wasn't really a viable option right now if they wanted to make Novac in good time.

"Eyes open," she murmured, moving forward. They picked their way through slowly, stepping lightly with weapons out. Riley cursed inwardly with every step, instinct telling her to turn around and find the route through the hills. They'd make a late arrival or they could camp in the hills, but that was better than bullet holes. If this was the army there wouldn't even be a discussion about it; walking into a probable ambush was just unprofessional and lazy and she wondered why Boone hadn't called her out on it before realizing that maybe - just maybe - he was trusting her to make the right decision.

Double shit.

She stopped in her tracks, grimacing while she argued with herself, before turning around to face her companions. They all watched her expectantly and she shook her head, lowering her weapon.

"Fall back," she said. "This is too high risk, let's not take chances."

There was a brief utterance of annoyance from Veronica, but Cass and Boone were in agreement. Riley gestured for them to turn around, taking up the rear herself. Boone waited for her.

"Good call," Boone fell into step beside her, and she smiled faintly.

"That's me," she said, "making good decisions since-"

The tell-tale warning beep of a frag mine broke her sentence and she froze, eyes wide. Before she could react, she felt Boone's hand close on the back of her rucksack, yanking her forward and throwing her to the ground. The mine exploded a second later, lifting the car a few feet in the air and landing it in flames. Chaos descended around them, Vipers started swarming down from the hills.

Riley coughed violently, the fall had winded her and she struggled to get up. Her sunglasses were in pieces on the concrete beneath her and she blinked rapidly while her eyes adjusted. Another hand closed around her wrist and dragged her unceremoniously behind cover. Boone again. He did a quick once over, checking her for injuries before handing her her assault rifle. "Support fire," was all he said before lifting his own rifle and taking aim.

The fight was wild. She'd managed to take out a few raiders, moving from Boone's cover to get a better shot. Veronica was holding her own with Cass providing support while the Scribe went to town. She had to admit, she definitely didn't want to be on Veronica's bad side. The girl could throw a mean punch. But it was Boone who took out eight raiders in nine shots. And nine only because he had to alter his aim to avoid hitting Veronica.

When the last raider fell the last of the sun was gone and night had descended. The only light now from the flames of the burning car behind her and the distant glow of New Vegas behind the hills. Riley waited, listening quietly while her eyes scanned their surroundings. The crackle of the fire was the only sound that greeted her and stillness prevailed in the darkness.

"Everyone okay?" Riley called out, lifting a hand to wave them over. Nobody moved, a general expression of horror stretched across their faces. A crack and a spark came from the flames and she turned just as Boone hollered and Cass cursed. The realization came too slow, and she had barely moved when the car exploded.

She was thrown back, slamming hard against the rusted hull of a derelict bus and crumpling to the ground. She must have fell out of consciousness, the next thing she knew Boone was hissing her name and shaking her shoulders to wake her. Pain ripped through her and she cried out, tears springing to her eyes as she lurched forward. She was vaguely aware of her companions crowding around her, their voices hushed and panicked while she sobbed and gasped through the pain.

"Don't move her!"

"Stimpaks? Grab the Med-X. Do we have any clean water? The burns needs to be washed."

"Get her pack off!"

Her cries got louder as they manoeuvred her into a sitting position, Boone bracing her against his own body while Cass tugged at the bag. She all but shrieked as the pain intensified. Her shoulder. Something was wrong with her shoulder. She couldn't move it like she normally could.

"Stop!" She sobbed. "Stop stop stop stop please-"

"Okay okay, just calm down," Cass ceased her tugging and gave Boone a wild look. "What do we do?"

"Cut the straps," Riley gasped. "I can't- my shoulder."

"What-" Cass started, stopping as Boone pulled a knife out of his boot. "Okay then."

"Not safe here," Boone said as he sliced through the straps of her bag. She sagged with relief at the loss of the weight. "That explosion will have attracted attention if there are more Vipers in the vicinity. We need to move."

"I don't think we should-" Veronica this time.

"We stay here we're gonna have another gun fight," he snapped, tossing her Riley's bag. "Get to safety first. Then treat her. Unless you want to treat bullet holes on top of burns."

There was no more arguing. She was lifted, strong arms supporting her beneath her knees and under her shoulders. Boone. They moved quickly, and while some still-functioning-logic centre of her brain told her to keep quiet, she couldn't control the cries of pain with every jostle as he tried to keep a brisk pace.

"Shut her up, she's going to bring the entire valley down on us!" Cass hissed.

Veronica was still fumbling with Riley's bag. "Boone, hold her still for a second." She tossed the bag at Cass and hurried over. She pressed the stimpak into Riley's shoulder, followed immediately with a Med-X. Riley sighed as the drugs washed over her, a pleasant numbing sensation reaching slowly outwards throughout her limbs. "There you go, happy drugs," Veronica crooned, as if to a child, smiling as Riley quieted.

"My shoulder," she managed to say. "Dislocated, I think."

"Oh, honey," Veronica moved hair out of Riley's face with a sympathetic smile. She looked up at Boone. "That ranch we passed on the way here. It's close."

"I remember it. Let's go." Shifting her in his arms, he picked up the pace.

* * *

She woke up to the sound of Veronica's off-tune humming. Riley hadn't noticed before - the volume of the radio was usually enough to override Veronica's singing - but as she was currently butchering _Johnny Guitar_ like a brahmin at slaughter, it was apparent that she couldn't sing worth a damn. The Scribe was on the floor, cross legged, Riley's ruined bag and everything in it scattered around her on the floor as she tinkered with something in front of her. The room they were in was small, and had only ever been meant for one person by the looks of it. She was on the only bed, and she couldn't see Boone or Cass anywhere. Images of Cass leading Boone off to have her way with him had Riley suddenly very worried.

"Where's-" Riley croaked. Ugh, she sounded horrible. Veronica's head whipped around.

"Oh! You're up! We wondered how long you'd be out for. How ya feeling?"

Riley groaned.

"That good, huh? Well, unfortunately we're out of the happy drugs. Have more stimpaks than we can throw at a New Vegas hooker, though, so you should be okay."

She smiled faintly. "I'll live. Where's Boone and Cass?"

"Out scouting the area."

Oh. That she could deal with. She highly doubted Boone would let himself get _distracted_ while scouting. Veronica continued.

"We took watches through the night in case we were followed. They're checking to see that we weren't." She plucked a bottle of purified water from Riley's bag and brought it over, uncapping it for her. Riley gulped it down gratefully.

"God that's good. Thanks."

"I take payment in cheap hookers. Since I'm playing nurse while the gunsome twosome are out prowling around, I'd say you owe me about three so far." She was digging in Riley's bag again, coming up with more gauze. She pulled the single chair in the room towards the bed and sat on it. "Alrighty. Let's check that dressing."

Riley sat up awkwardly, wincing. Her arm was strapped to her side and the movement made her shoulder twinge. The memory of Boone resetting her shoulder the night before made her pale. Cass had given her whiskey straight from the bottle and Veronica held her down while Boone slowly rotated her arm outwards. The pain of that was something she never wanted to relive. Her burns, thankfully, weren't as severe as they initially thought, though her shirt was ruined, scorched to hell. She had burns along the left side of her neck and shoulder that required ointment and dressing. She sat still while Veronica worked, only the occasional wince to break the silence.

Later, her burns freshly dressed and her sling adjusted, Riley sat against the wall on the bed and watched as Veronica went about cleaning her work area.

"What were you making?"

"Oh!" Veronica bent and picked up a tin can with something stuffed inside. Riley stared at it as familiarity kicked in.

"You're building explosives," she remarked flatly.

Veronica grinned. "I know you're sick of them after we went around hunting Powder Gangers all week, and then the mine last night. But I had to do something with my time. Boone said he wanted to stay here a few more days to give your shoulder time to heal and be ok for travel and then we'll head to the New Vegas Medical Clinic. They have Auto-Docs there and they can fix you right up. So if we're staying here a few days, I figured we should fortify the area at night so we can all get some sleep and-"

"Whoa whoa whoa," Riley lifted her good arm and waved it around. "Let's back up. Who says I can't travel now? My legs are fine. We can make Novac in a few hours."

Veronica bit her lip. "Well... yeah. Okay, good point. The three of us are enough to keep you covered, but you can argue with Boone on that. I'm staying out of it."

"Oh come on! At least back me up a little!" The door to the shack opened just then and Veronica whipped around, ready to fight.

"Back you up for what?" Cass grunted. Veronica sighed, relaxing, and then stared at the bag Cass was attempting to drag through the door. Blood was seeping out of it.

"Did you kill Boone?"

"Yep. Fucker talked too much."

Riley snorted with laughter and Cass grinned. "It's Bighorner."

"You shot one?" Veronica pouted. "What if it had a mom?"

"Everything has a mom. Shut up and help me lift this."

"Where _is_ Boone?" Riley asked while the two girls worked together to move their supper onto the table. Cass huffed out a breath as she wiped her forehead with the back of her arm.

"There's a watch position up on the hill. It overlooks Viper territory towards Nipton, he's checking things out."

"What else did you guys find?" Veronica wrinkled her nose at the sack of meat and went back to cleaning her mess.

"Whole shit load of nothin', in my opinion. Little farm to the southeast. Town of Searchlight a bit farther than that but we didn't want to go too far. Stuck to the hills mostly. Found a herd of Bighorners. One of them charged at us," she gave a pointed look at Veronica. "So that's why we have supper." She sagged against the door frame, rubbing at her neck. "God damn I'm wiped out. And Boone ain't much for conversation, is he?"

Veronica and Riley laughed. "You get used to it," Riley smiled. "He says what he needs to."

"Um," Cass fanned herself with her hat, looking outside the door briefly to see if Boone was around. She lowered her voice. "We _did _find evidence of Legion in the area. But no telling how long since they've been here. Boone's been a little..."

Riley quieted. She could probably guess what Boone was being a 'little' of, and he probably wasn't too thrilled that her injuries meant they couldn't do anything about it either. "I'll talk to him." She pushed herself to the edge of the bed before stopping and looked around. "Um... I need a shirt."

"What? Now?" Cass asked. "Shouldn't you stay in bed?"

"I didn't injure my legs," Riley repeated, exasperated. "Can I borrow a shirt?"

Cass grinned. "What, you're saying you _don't_ want to go talk to the hunky sniper in only a bra? He saw you in it last night when he set your shoulder back."

Riley narrowed her eyes while Veronica giggled. Cass held her hands up. "Okay, okay. Give me a second." She left, coming back with a blue plaid shirt. Riley snatched it with her good hand.

"Close the door, give me a hand putting this on." They moved to help her dress slowly - careful not to hurt her too much - and placed her arm back in its sling afterwards. Once she was buttoned up, she noticed Cass fighting back a smile.

"What?"

"Nothing. Plaid suits you. You're good to go." She moved aside and held the door open.

When she stepped outside in Cass' shirt, she looked around briefly, orienting herself. The sun hadn't reached anywhere near its zenith, and a glance at her Pip-boy placed the time at 9:34am. So she hadn't slept in as much as she'd originally thought.

She wondered if Boone thought otherwise, and looked around for him. The lookout was on the hill behind the shack, and she took a breath, bracing herself. She already knew what she was going to say, and made her way around the shack and up makeshift metal ramp when she noticed Boone already heading down towards her. He stopped when he saw her, mouth setting into what she was fast-learning was his 'disapproving' frown.

"You shouldn't be up." He finished descending and gestured for her to sit on a nearby crate.

"My legs are fine." She was starting to sound like a broken record, but she sat anyway.

Boone stared at her, waiting. "You need something?"

She lifted her hand and ran it through her hair, shaking the ends out and wishing briefly that she'd thought to comb it properly before coming out here. Her vanity would have to wait, however. "Wanted to talk. Cass mentioned you found signs of Legion." His jaw clenched and she sighed. "You wanna show me what you found?"

"Too far out. You're not going scouting with that injury."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay. You wanna _tell_ me what you found?"

He shifted his weight, sighed, and launched into full report mode. "We left the ranch at oh-seven-hundred this morning. We did a preliminary sweep of the immediate area for threats and found none before branching out. Due east of here we found tracks and traces of used healing powder, scattered edged ordnance. Evidence of a fight. Tracks headed northeast as far as I could tell."

"Ordnance… Spears?"

"Yeah."

"How old were the tracks?"

"Hard to say. A few days maybe."

Riley sighed, running over what she knew in her head. Legion in the area, with her wounded, was not exactly what she'd call good conditions for travelling. Then again, they weren't exactly great conditions for sticking around either. She wanted to keep her promise to Boone and go after them, but she also had an obligation to get Cass to the Crimson Caravan. On top of that was her own completed job for McLafferty, the caps from which would top off her Vegas fund enough to get her inside the Strip and closer to getting that chip back.

She was starting to get a headache. Was this what her C.O. felt like? Having to decide a course of action every time something came up for multiple people was starting to feel like a very large and annoying chore. But still, a decision had to be made.

"We're making a push for Vegas," she decided.

"You shouldn't be travelling."

"Faster I get to a proper doctor, the faster I can pick up a weapon," she pointed out. Boone worked his jaw but didn't say anything. She sighed. "I made a bad call, leading us down that road. I'm paying the price for it, but it's not going to happen again. Just-" she stood up. "Just had to say that. We move out once we're packed and ready to go. And I _am_ okay to travel."

"Okay."

She eyed him. "That's it? 'Okay'?"

"You want a lecture? Better get a move on if you want to make that push." He paused and considered her for a moment. "And you might want to find a better fitting shirt."

She blinked, watching as he walked back towards the shack. What the hell was that supposed to mean? She glanced down, heat rising to her cheeks as she realized that Cass' shirt was severely lacking in bust room. Her chest was straining against the buttons, leaving little to the imagination, and she'd sat there just chatting away as if her breasts weren't waving a huge 'Hey look at me!' sign.

Fucking Cass.


	13. Still I've got miles to go

They stopped in Novac just after noon. Cass, as per Riley's instructions, took off with Veronica in tow to trade what they could with Cliff. They had to leave the Bighorner kill back at the ranch, which Cass called a goddamn waste and Riley was inclined to agree based on the lost profits alone, but with Veronica carrying both her own and Riley's gear, they didn't really have the room for it.

She watched them go, and when she turned away noted that the mutant corpse was missing from the bridge. What did they do with it? She imagined a giant Novac dinner with mutant steaks being served and shuddered. Did they find Jeannie May's body as well? Maybe coming back here wasn't such a great idea; they really didn't need any more hold ups. She turned to voice her concerns to Boone and found him staring down towards the edge of town.

"Boone?"

"How's the shoulder?" he asked.

"The burnt one or the dislocated one?"

He spared her a look and she suppressed a laugh. "Stiff. Sore. Why?"

"Come with me." He walked off, forcing her to follow. He lit a cigarette as they walked, gesturing at a small group of people at the end of the road just on the outskirts of town. Riley looked at him.

"That is...?"

"Ada Strauss. Veronica mentioned we were out of Med-X. You can get more off her. She's a doctor. Sort of."

"Sort of," she repeated and he shrugged. She noted Boone kept his distance as she conducted her business, and only when Ada suggested looking at her injuries herself did he finally appear, one hand closing around Riley's good arm at the elbow and hauling her away. Her indignant squawk at being manhandled went ignored.

"What was that for?" Riley asked once they were out of earshot. Boone flicked his cigarette away as they walked back towards the dinosaur to meet up with the girls.

"Not certified. I wouldn't trust her to treat a paper cut."

"But you trust her to sell me pain meds?" Riley grinned. Boone glared at her and she shook her head with a smile, glancing up at Dinky. An idea struck and she mulled it over. "Hey. You told me a few days ago that Manny used to be a Khan?"

"Yeah. Used to."

"Think he'd still have ties with them? Like if some Khans came through town, would Manny help them out?"

He stopped by the gates, and because he still had a hand on her, she was forced to stop too. He released her arm slowly. "What are you getting at?"

"The guy that shot me had a bunch of Khans with him. They came through this route supposedly."

"Okay."

"And," she continued, drawing out the word. "I want to ask him if he knows anything. I know you two aren't exactly chummy at the moment, but could you come with me?"

He stared at her. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Me asking or-?"

"Me going with you."

She bit her lip. "Did you want to hear why I wanted you to come with me?"

"I can guess why."

She nodded, staring at a passing tumbleweed so she didn't have to look at him. It was a silly question, when she thought about it. They'd known each other just a little over a week. Despite Boone's current issues with Manny, they had history. She could hardly expect him to back her up against an old friend who he'd fought and bled with. She understood the ties between soldiers better than anyone, after all.

"I shouldn't have asked," she laughed dryly. "Sorry. I'll get the info out of him on my own. I'll send the girls back out if they're done!" She gave him a little wave and smile as she walked off. Behind her, she could hear Boone's long-suffering sigh.

Inside the gift shop, Cass was leaning against the wall looking defeated while Veronica gleefully accepted a T-Rex from Cliff. Riley smirked and shut the door behind her, moving over to Cass.

"Fell for her charms?" She asked, amused. Cass rolled her eyes.

"If by 'charms' you meant her incessant whining, then sure. Putty in her hands." But she couldn't hide the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Veronica bounced on her heels as she tucked the toy into her sack.

"They're adorable and you love me."

"If you say so," Cass sighed, turning back to Riley. "We're just about done here. Where's Mr. Doom and Gloom?"

"Waiting outside. I'm just gonna go up and talk to the day sniper for info on my attackers. I'll meet you guys once I'm done," she nodded at Cliff and headed towards the stairs.

"Don't take too long! You wanna make New Vegas before night we gotta get a move on!" Cass yelled after her, just as the door to the shop opened.

"Boone." Cliff's word of greeting had Riley turning on the second step. It was, indeed, Boone. He surveyed the room once, eyes coming to rest on her.

"Cliff." He nodded once in greeting as he crossed the room. Riley watched him approach, eyebrows raised.

"I thought-"

"Yeah. You did." His tone wasn't unkind, but it was definitely leaning towards the _'You thought wrong'_ direction. Boone motioned towards the stairs. "Let's get this over with."

"You don't have to do this," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to pressure you. I'm okay doing this on my own."

He stared at her. "You have a tendency to piss people off when you meet them. I'm just making sure you don't start another fight."

"Oh ha ha," she said dryly, rolling her eyes. "Very funny. Fine. Let's go."

Manny greeted her with a smile when she stepped out into the dinosaur's mouth. It amused her - the difference between Boone's first reaction to her and Manny's. She guessed visitors were a bit more common in the daytime. When Boone stepped out behind her, however, Manny's smile faltered, falling into a thin, firm line. Riley swallowed, suddenly aware that Boone might have been right and this was not a good idea. The two men glared at each other, she was effectively forgotten and she started to wonder if maybe she should just abort the entire idea when Boone shut the door behind him – rather forcefully, she noted – placed one hand on her good shoulder, and pushed her forward. She stared up at Manny.

"Um."

Eloquent.

He glanced down at her. His eyes were still burning with a rage that she didn't even want to begin to comprehend. His gaze flicked to Boone's hand on her shoulder, down to her injured arm, then back over her head at his old friend.

"Didn't think to say anything to me before leaving, huh? A written note? Anything?"

"I gave Cliff the message," Boone said from behind her.

Manny elbowed her aside to get in Boone's face and she winced as she hit the wall. She lifted a hand, shaking her head at Boone when he looked to see if she was alright. Better to let Manny get this all out, she figured.

"Man, I don't care that you and I aren't talking. You were here to _protect_ these people. And then one day you just waltz out of here with _her?_" He jabbed a finger in her direction and she felt her back straighten indignantly. What was _that_ supposed to mean? "The first god damn broad that walks in here and you just pack right up and head out, huh? Took you long enough to get over Carla but I figured you'd have some sense, man."

Riley sucked in a breath, but she didn't need to react. Boone reached out, grabbed Manny by the front of his shirt and hauled him a few inches off the ground. "Are you done?"

"No I'm not _done_ you inconsiderate asshole!"

"Too bad," Boone growled, "because I'm done listening. She's here to ask you something. I suggest you answer her. Then we're leaving. I'm telling you now, personally. So you can quit your bitching." He released his grip, letting Manny fall back onto his feet. He leaned back against the door and folded his arms. The discussion, if you could call it that, was apparently over. Manny adjusted his shirt, still glaring. Riley cleared her throat, and he turned his glare on her.

"Do you know anything about a man in a checkered suit?" She blurted out. "Might have come through here with a few Khan members a while back?"

"Why?"

Which wasn't an answer. She sighed. "He took something of mine."

He was still working to keep his anger reigned in, she noticed. He gave Boone one last glare before grabbing his rifle. He turned back around, lifted his scope to his eye and returned to his watch. "If you're talking about that chip he was flashing around, I don't think he's giving it up."

That was an almost answer! She leaned forward, excited. "But he was here? In town? Do you know where he went?"

"They stayed with me for a night, yeah. Look," he lowered his rifle, aggravated, and looked at her. "I know where they went, but I have problems of my own, no thanks to _you_. You want this information, you need to do something for me first."

"No thanks to _me?_" She repeated incredulously. "Listen you-" she stopped herself and narrowed her eyes, breathing angrily. She was still very much aware of Boone's presence and his words echoed in her mind. _Don't start another fight._ She forced herself to back off, one last deep breath to calm her down. "Let's go, Boone." She turned on her heel as he opened the door for her, hurrying down the stairs. Her mind raced, rage and annoyance throwing her ideas in one direction. She latched onto a plan and moved to do it before she changed her mind.

"Which room is Manny's?" she asked as they stepped outside.

"Two down from mine."

Veronica and Cass were outside, waiting in the shade outside Andy's house. Cass greeted them with a smile.

"All done? We could hear him yelling from he- where are you going?"

Riley stomped past them towards the motel, Boone following closely behind her. "I'll only be five minutes."

"If that's all two you need!" she called after them.

"Give it a rest, Cass!" Riley snapped. She threw open the door to Manny's room, waltzing in as if she owned it.

"I don't know how you ever put up with him!" she raged. "Does he always blame women for everything?" She stopped in the middle of the room, looking around. The room was spotless; Manny was quite possibly the cleanest man she'd ever met. The couch was pulled out at an odd angle, though, and spare mattresses littered the floor. He _had_ had visitors here.

She went about poking through drawers and dressers, venting her frustrations as she did so.

"I mean, hell! I might as well have held a gun to your head and dragged you off screaming in the middle of the night! _'I've got problems of my own, no thanks to you'," _she made a poor imitation of Manny and Boone made a sound that was almost a laugh behind her. She spared him a smile and returned to her search. Behind her, Boone shut the door and quietly leaned against it while she prowled around. She couldn't find any trace of garbage anywhere. The one cabinet in the room didn't even have clothes in it, just a handful of .308 calibre bullets, which she slid into her pocket in a moment of bitterness.

"He's lucky I'm injured. When he mentioned Carla I was gonna deck him," she muttered. A computer terminal hummed in the back of the room and she moved over to it, wrinkling her nose. Hacking wasn't her speciality. She was just beginning to wonder if she should get Veronica in here to help when she noticed it wasn't password protected.

She stared at the screen disbelievingly. This man had no sense of self-security whatsoever. No locked door, no password. No wonder he had nothing in here; he was probably being robbed daily. There was only one file on the terminal, and she opened it, half-anticipating some journal entry lamenting about the many robberies he'd had. Instead, it was a letter from a Great Khan. She sat up straighter, eyes taking in every word.

Benny. The man who shot her was named Benny. They were on their way to Boulder City. The chip was mentioned. This was it!

Her Pip-Boy made a whirring noise and she glanced down. It had downloaded the entire message.

Well. That was handy.

"Got what you needed?" Boone asked from behind her chair. She jumped wildly, pressing her hand to her chest as she tried to regulate her heartbeat. She'd forgotten about him.

"Christ. Don't _do_ that!" She thought she caught the faint flicker of a smile as she stood, but it was gone before she could be sure.

"Did you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I got it. Let's go."

They were a good hour out of town before Riley brought it up. "Apparently my shooter is a guy named Benny." She looked around at them all. "Heard of him?"

"No," replied Boone. Cass shrugged. Veronica frowned.

"Benny? Isn't he the owner of the Tops? Head of the Chairmen there. He comes up in the news sometimes."

Riley blew out a long breath. "Owner of a casino? Well shit."

"I could be wrong," Veronica offered. "I mean, there's probably lots of Bennys running around in checkered suits shooting Couriers in the head. Who can really say?"

Riley spared her a look. "Thanks so much."

"That's me. I'm a helper."


	14. I've got a wide wide river to cross

**Author's Note: **_I am so sorry this took so long. I was sidelined by a viral infection for the better part of two weeks. :( It is difficult to write when you're coughing up a lung. I'm also trying to get this story moving, as it seems to me as if it's progressing at an extremely slow pace, but this chapter itself does not aid in that, lol. Again, very sorry for the wait. Thank you to everyone for reading/following/reviewing. I hit 50 reviews. :3 It's a little milestone for me so I did a happy dance._

* * *

"So what are we doing here again?" Cass asked, holding out her bottle of whiskey as if it was perfectly normal to drink while traveling at eleven in the morning. She'd been drinking since they left the New Vegas Medical Clinic, following Riley east across the wastes after a brief stop at the Crimson Caravan. They'd collected her payment and then, with declarations of boredom on her lips, she left with them, and Riley hadn't stopped her. She liked the older woman, despite her apparent campaign to embarrass Riley whenever she got the chance.

The ruins of Boulder City stood a stark contrast against the desolate waste, the piles of rubble a silent reminder of the capability for destruction of humans, as if they needed more reminders of such a thing in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Riley remembered the town before Hoover Dam, remembered the buildings that were still standing, the constant flow of people in the streets. It was a lively place, now rendered to ruin. Sad.

"The men who attacked me came here," Riley replied, shaking her head at the offered drink. It wasn't even noon, Cass! "Don't know if they're still here, but maybe I can find out where they went."

"How? There's nobody even here. Except for that guy," Cass pointed at a lone figure standing in front of the memorial stone. Riley frowned. She was right. Destroyed or not, Boulder City had always been filled with quarry workers looking to throw their caps at something, and there wasn't a single person in sight. What the hell?

"There's a saloon," Veronica shrugged. "You want information, you go to a bar. Right?"

"Usually how it works," Boone agreed. "First round's on Cass." Riley turned to look at her partner. That had to be the closest to teasing and banter that she'd heard since she met him.

"Hey hey," Cass gestured wildly with her whiskey bottle. "I never said anything about that." She pointed at Riley. "Your soldier's getting lippy."

"Standard procedure," Riley grinned, playing along. "You want to stick around, you're buying us drinks Ms. Money Bags." Cass' payment for the contract had been rather… substantial.

"One round," Cass narrowed her eyes. "Not letting you kids drink me out of house and home."

Because the idea that they were the ones in danger of drinking her fortune away, Riley laughed, pulling open the door to the Big Horn Saloon and letting them walk in first. She flexed her shoulder as she followed, still grateful for the auto-doc that had healed her up the night before. She wasn't grateful for the follow-up exam, or the way Usanagi shut the door and pulled out a worn and well-used pad of paper. Apparently, the fact that Riley had missed a few appointments a year prior hadn't sat too well with the good doctor. The questions. God she was sick of the questions. But hey, she could shoot again. That was what mattered.

"A bit empty in here," Boone pointed out. He was right. Even the bar was desolate - the lone bartender stood behind the counter washing a glass that was probably clean to begin with. Riley wondered just how much information she was going to get here.

"First customers I've had in days," the barkeep set the glass down as she approached, a ready smile on his face. "The hostage situation has been a little bad for business."

Riley frowned. "Hostage situation?"

"Yeah, haven't you been listening to the news? NCR troops in town got mixed up with some Khans passing through," the man went on and Riley stopped moving. "They've been holed up in one of the buildings for the past week or so with a few soldiers as hostages. I think the NCR are about to go in guns blazing any d— hey!"

She didn't hear the rest. She'd turned and ran right out of the saloon, pushing past her companions, heart thumping. She ignored their calls and bolted down the street, hair flying, eyes alert for anything— there. She stopped at a crossroads, gaze latching onto a soldier in the distance, idling near some sandbags. Had to be it.

She moved to go to him, but a hand latched around her arm and suddenly she was facing a very stern-looking Boone. He didn't say anything, just dragged her off the main road behind the rubble of a now ruined building. They were out of view of the soldier standing guard and she rolled her eyes. She needed to have a talk with him about the manhandling.

"What—" she started, stopping when he turned and pressed something into her hands.

"Wear it," he simply said, and her confusion grew. She stared down at whatever was in her hands, fingers moving over the soft fabric. It was a beret. Like the one she lost a year ago. Sunlight glinted off the emblem of First Recon and she blinked.

"You had a spare?"

"Yeah," he nodded patiently, folding his arms. "What was your rank?"

"Corporal," she answered without thinking, eyes still on the beret in her hands. "Corporal Jensen. What does this have to do with anything?"

"Jensen," he repeated, trying it out. She smiled, flicking her gaze up at him briefly.

"Riley Jensen. What about you?"

"Sergeant," he tilted his head slightly. If she was being honest with herself, it almost looked a little cocky. "Craig Boone."

She eyed him, lips twitching. "You gonna pull rank on me?"

"Funny." He gestured at the beret. "Now put that on."

"Why? Is there something wrong with my hair?"

"Just—," his tone was patronizing as he sighed, as if this was a very simple concept that she was failing to grasp. "What exactly were you going to say to that officer when you walked up?"

Uh. She frowned, realising she hadn't exactly thought about that. In the excitement of knowing that she was close to something tangible, she hadn't thought much at all actually. Her only thought was simply getting there. Heat rushed to her face as she began to see where he was going with this.

"Do you think that they'd let a civilian walk into a hostage situation that they're trying to diffuse?" he continued slowly.

She shifted her weight uneasily and looked down like a child admonished. "No?"

He stared at her evenly. "So put on the beret. They'll work with First Recon. We have enough pull for this."

"Right," she nodded. "You're right." She said again, sighing. In a way it amused her, that he was doing to her what she did to him at Nipton: stopping the other from rushing in without a plan. He wasn't kidding when he said he had her back and right now she was grateful for it. She tucked the beret under her chin as she worked to put her hair up, placing the beret on top her head with a practised and habitual tilt afterwards. She looked up at him, hands wide as if on display. "How do I look?"

"Aw look, they're twins," Cass interrupted before he could answer and Riley jumped. She hadn't even noticed the two girls approaching. Cass smirked. "You took off like a bat out of hell. Figured soldier boy would bring you back."

Veronica winked at Riley playfully. "Looking good. I like a girl in uniform."

"It's a hat," Riley laughed. "I get my hands on some fatigues and I'll strut around all day in them for you."

"Now you're talking."

"So what's the plan?" Cass asked. "These Khans the ones who wronged you? We taking 'em out?" Her eyes gleamed at the possibility and Riley pulled her assault rifle over her head.

"Gotta play it right, but yeah. I think we got the right Khans here. Follow my lead," she adjusted her beret quickly. "We're going to get some god damn answers."

There was no gunfight, no blood. Despite her yearnings for revenge, there were hostages to consider; her bloodlust had to come second to their safety. That didn't mean she didn't enjoy scaring the living hell out of Jessup. He looked like he'd taken on a new appreciation for religion when she walked through that door, a Cheshire grin plastered on her face and a far too cocky attitude in her pocket. His reaction alone was enough really, to keep her satisfied for a long time.

At least until she found Benny.

Now, she stood in the middle of the street staring at the retreating members of Jessup and the Khans as they walked through the lines of NCR, unhindered. She'd gotten her answers, she told herself grimly, fingers toying with Benny's lighter in one hand. Some answers she knew but had them confirmed anyway, like how Benny was a royal prick. Others were… well. Apparently, she was killed for a chip that he didn't even know how to damn well use. Which was a real pisser.

It had been easier for her to think that she was shot because the platinum chip had some monetary value, that she was given an early grave for a reason. A shitty reason, yeah, but at least a reason she could understand: greed. But Benny didn't even know what the chip did. She almost died because of… what? A shot in the dark that this chip might mean something? Might tip the scales somehow? What kind of dipshit idiot does something without a plan?

Oh, right.

Boone was making his way over, his hands and knees dusty from his time spent covering them from a distance, in a broken down building across the street. He nodded once by way of greeting, turning to watch the last of the Khans leave through the gates as he stood by Riley.

"We done here?"

She nodded absently and he nudged the bag at her feet with his boot.

"What's this?"

"Huh?" she looked down, smiling once she saw what he was referring to. She grinned up at him, eyes alight with a sudden glee. "You wanna find out?"

* * *

The Lakelurk dropped to the ground, convulsing once before finally laying still, a bullet hole through its head and its blood emptying on the ground beneath. Boone watched through his scope as Riley dropped another one before lowering his rifle and glancing at her. A grin was spread across her face, unabashed joy evident in everything in her body language. If ever he had doubts about her lying about being in First Recon, seeing her shoot with an actual sniper rifle would have erased them. This was her element.

The colony of Lakelurks were confused, running up and down the beach while their brethren fell mysteriously one by one among them. After the third one fell, Boone set up next to her, taking a knee and his aim, and together they wiped out the rest of them while Cass and Veronica watched through binoculars.

"Jesus," Cass blew out a breath as she lowered her pair. "Remind me not to get on your bad side. It's one thing to see Boone in action, but two of you at the same time is pretty damn scary."

"You already got on my bad side," Riley grinned up at her as she pushed herself to her feet. "I had the split lip to show for it."

"Your gun is different," Veronica pointed out. "Bigger than Boone's."

"Mine is a standard issue hunting rifle with attached scope," Boone said, rising and dusting off his hands. "Almost everyone in First Recon uses the same. Bolt action. More accurate, more reliable." He nodded at Riley and she held out her rifle in front of her so he could inspect it. He tilted his head, running his gaze over it in a critical - and yet appreciative - manner. "This is a semi-automatic sniper rifle. Older model. Heavier. Needs more upkeep but has a higher firing rate." He lifted the head of the barrel and then glanced at Riley with a raised eyebrow. "A suppressor?"

"What? I don't like shouting to the world 'Hey I'm right here!' with every shot," she smiled.

"Shouldn't need to worry about that if you hit what you're aiming for," he countered and she gaped at him.

"Cass is right," she said. "You are getting lippy."

"Fascinating as it is to see you two compare dick sizes," Cass said dryly, "but it's hot and I'm hungry. Can we press on?"

They pressed on. They found a campsite close to the shoreline where Riley declared they were spending the rest of the day. Ranger Station Alpha was close by and Boone wandered up to get a report on the area while Cass and Veronica indulged themselves by taking a swim. When he returned, Riley was perched on a small outcropping of rock overlooking the lake, looking every bit the sniper now that she had what she termed a 'proper' gun. The beret still sat atop her head, aiding the image, and he made his way over.

"Legion activity is low in the area," he reported, coming up behind her. Laughter erupted from below and he glanced down, briefly noting that both Cass and Veronica had stripped down to nothing as they frolicked in the water, their clothes laying in haphazard piles on the beach. He turned abruptly, facing the cliffs and the campsite as he blew out an irritated breath. The fact that he'd been travelling with three women hadn't exactly crossed his mind as an issue until now.

"Well that— Boone?" She'd turned around. No doubt she was wondering about his turned back.

"Yeah?"

She started to laugh, then obviously thought better on it as she coughed awkwardly. She cleared her throat, and he could hear the amusement in her voice as she spoke. "I'm going to head down and join them. Um. Are you going to—"

"I'll stay here," he snapped.

"Okay," she backed off, leaving him to stew in the campsite. He could hear her laughter join the others soon enough and he sighed, taking the first few steps back toward the campground. He could get food going, or tidy up the area. He was sure his gun needed cleaning. No doubt there were a hundred things he could do to avoid thinking about the fact that there were three naked girls swimming just down the hill from him, but all he could think about was how that damn beret was probably sitting in the sand right now along with the rest of Riley's clothes.

That was a new thought, he realised as he dropped his duffel on one of the picnic tables. A new and unwelcome thought. A man living on borrowed time couldn't afford to think about their new partner like that. Couldn't afford a lot of things, if you got right down to it. Like having a day off at the beach. He should be out there, in the wastes hunting Legionaries. Like she said they'd be. Not sitting here in a deserted campground cursing a girl for skinny dipping.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, annoyed with himself. For the first time since he left Novac, all he wanted was a drink.


	15. I have stumbled, I have strayed

"Do we _have _to go through this shithole?"

Riley looked over to where Cass was standing, scowling at their surroundings like they had wronged her somehow. Sure, Freeside wasn't exactly what she'd call _sanitary_, and she herself didn't really have fond memories of the place, but shithole? Cass shifted uneasily beside her, clearly uncomfortable, while they waited for Veronica and Boone to join them. Her eyes were trained on something in the distance - a man. He walked down the street, his hands shaking and his head twitching to one side in what Riley recognized as signs of withdrawal. Interesting.

"Um, there's really no other way in to the Strip," she pointed out and Cass sighed.

"Figures," she muttered. "Alright, let's get this show on the road."

"We should restock," Boone pointed out. "Low on food. Ammo."

Riley blew out a breath. He was right, she knew, but she wanted to get into the Strip sooner rather than later. Still, it wouldn't hurt to be prepared, and there was no place to get ammo on the Strip anyway so it just made sense to get it now.

"Okay. I know a place," Riley nodded. Kings were pushing the gate closed behind them and she led the way away from the screeching of metal on concrete. She kept an eye out for Tanner as they walked, but all the Kings looked the same from a distance, and she gave up after the third block, more willing to keep an eye out for drugged up hobos with lead pipes than not.

She took them to Mick and Ralph's, and surprised herself when restocking food and ammo cost more than she was expecting. It hadn't occurred to her that keeping both her and Boone's guns fed could be that expensive. Since she had her guns back, though, she now had to double the usual amount of .308 bullets that they carried. It probably hadn't helped that in her joy at getting her guns back she spent a lot of time shooting anything that moved and egging Boone into random shooting competitions as they made their way back to Vegas. Cass' shotgun shells were relatively cheap, thank god, but this was still going to burn a hole in her pocket.

"Can't…" she stared down at the boxes in her hand, then back up at Mick. "How much did you say again?"

"Twenty rounds per box, eight caps per round, four boxes. Do the math," Mick shrugged.

"Please. Eight caps a round is bullshit," Cass cut in. "You can knock that down a few, easy." They argued for a few minutes, discussing supply and demand before Cass made some cutting remark about Mick being a swindling bastard. Riley wasn't aware that insults were beneficial in bartering, but apparently this was the case as Mick eyed her shrewdly.

"Alright. Six a round."

That was still almost five hundred caps, her entire payment from McLafferty. Jesus. She looked at Cass imploringly but the woman shook her head. That was as low as Mick would go. She forked out the caps dully and they left, Riley mentally doing the math in her head as they walked down the street towards the Wrangler. Would she have enough to get into the Strip now? After the ammo, the food, the water… she came up with a number and frowned. She did the math again and came up with a second number which was exactly the same as the first and came to the conclusion that no - no she would not have enough.

The realization floored her and she stopped walking in the middle of the road. God dammit! She'd worked so _hard_ for that money and now-! She dropped her bag to the ground and in a fit of frustration, kicked it vehemently.

"Hey now, what did the bag ever do to you?" Veronica asked and Riley sucked in a calming breath, turning slowly to face them.

"I'm not going to have enough to get in," she said flatly.

"Is that all?" Cass frowned. "How much is it to get in?"

"Two thousand caps credit check."

Cass whistled. "Well, I have mine covered."

"I have a passport," Boone added.

"Um," Veronica smiled sheepishly and tucked her hands behind her back. "I can wait here in Freeside?"

"No," Riley shook her head firmly. "We're all going in. I'm not leaving anybody behind. Not-" She sighed and rubbed at her forehead, trying to think. They waited patiently. "Okay. Okay, we just need more work. That's all. I'm like seven hundred short, plus another two thousand for Veronica's way in-" she grimaced. "Shit, why didn't I think about that before? You were the first person to join me!"

"Hey, don't worry about me. I can stay here, or go back to the 188 while you get things done. Even though I _would _like to help you with this Benny guy. But really, you don't have to worry about paying my way in, okay?" She smiled. Riley's frown deepened, but she didn't say anything. Whatever Veronica said, she was getting her into the god damn Strip.

"Don't think you'll find many high paying employers in this dump," Cass pointed out. A rat scurried by their feet, punctuating her argument, followed shortly by a child in grimy clothes. Riley sighed.

"Hell with it. I'll figure it out," she grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "We're getting in there if we have to crawl through the god damn sewers."

There was a moment of silence as everyone looked at her with the same sort of regard you gave a crazy person.

"Of course I'm hoping we don't have to-" she threw up her hands. "Never mind. Let's just go find some work."

* * *

Later, sitting in the bar of the Wrangler, Riley came to discover than Rum and Nuka was friggin' awesome. That's what it was. Awesome. Whoever it was that decided that rum wasn't awesome enough without the company of a carbonated beverage needed a god damn medal for Outstanding Service to the Mojave or some shit. And rum was pretty god damn awesome on its own so that took an extra level of brilliance as far as she was concerned.

She ordered another, slapping the caps down onto the counter with a drunken smile. James said nothing as he pocketed her caps and slid another bottle towards her in a practised flourish that she envied. She liked James. He had nice hair. And she liked him despite the fact that he asked her to do the _stupidest shit_ earlier. Normally, she would have told him to take his pimping job and stuff it up his ass, but nope. She needed the money, and to be honest it wasn't _really_ that horrible. Sort of fun, really - at the time anyway - and hell, it turned a tidy profit. Enough to almost cover the cost of the ammo. It was a start, at any rate.

Now she just needed an extra what? Two thousand three hundred caps? Give or take?

"_There's a brothel in Westside-"_

Tanner's suggestion came back to her and she scowled. Nope. Not going there. Had to draw a line somewhere, right? A girl needed standards, and that meant pimping others was okay, but pimping yourself was not. Right?

Right?

Her forehead hit the counter with a depressing _thud _as she contemplated her downward moral spiral for caps. Shit.

That's what this was. This whole thing. This whole thing was just shit. She should just say screw the god damn platinum chip. It'd been nothing but trouble anyway since the moment she took the job. And screw the contract. Mercenaries would have to bloody well find her first, liability clause be damned. She could take her guns and her new friends and blaze a god damn path to freedom in the Mojave. Boone wanted to go hunt Legion anyway, well, she could grant that wish. Veronica wanted to visit new places, well they could do that. Cass wanted to-

What _did _Cass want?

"You know, for someone who's worried about her caps, you're sure drinking a lot of them away." Speak of the devil, Riley thought. Cass appeared at her side, looking patronizing and wry as she ordered a shot of whiskey. Riley lifted her head and focused on her, trying to ignore the way Fisto was waddling around the bar floor behind her. Ugh.

"Why don't you slow down a bit. Eat something? Your buzz'll last longer."

"Food costs money," Riley slurred. Cass' smile grew, and James placed a shot glass at her elbow. She turned, drink in hand, and slid her gaze over the Courier in an open appraisal.

"Everything costs money. How many have you had now?"

"I dunno," Riley sat back up, taking a deep swig of her drink as she thought. The burn as it made its way down her throat was fucking great. "Six…teen? No. Seven."

"Seventeen?" She wasn't sure if the expression on Cass' face was appalled or impressed.

"Iunno. Wasn't really counting. Prolly like two," she snickered. "Hey," she swivelled in her seat to stare at Cass properly, intent on asking her what it was she wanted so she could finish her earlier thought and plan out her path of freedom through the Mojave. The woman quirked a brow as she downed her shot in one, and Riley, in her drunken stupor, had to admire her for it. "Listen. Listen. You-" she paused to take another drink, slamming the bottle down with more force than necessary when she was done. "I forget what I was going to say. But you're awesome. That's what you are."

"Don't you know it." Cass eyed Riley's already half-empty bottle and shook her head with that same amused smile. "I was going to ask you for a favour, but now I'm thinking I should wait until you're sober."

"You want somethin'?" Riley grinned. "Everyone wants somethin'. You gotta just take it. Whatever it is. Don't let anyone tell you different." She pointed at Cass, leaning closer to her as if this was a life lesson to be remembered. "You gotta respect life 'cause you only… only get one shot." She blinked. "Except for me. I get a lot of shots." She started laughing and Cass' eyebrows went up.

"Okay. I'm going to have to teach you how to handle your liquor. You're sort of a pathetic drunk."

"Teach me?" Riley frowned and sat farther back on the stool. She teetered precariously, grabbing blindly for Cass because the counter was just not stable enough, apparently. "Why everyone wanna teach me something? Ron wants to-" she shook her head, gripped Cass' sleeve like a lifeline. "How to fight. You, to drink." She paused, looked up. "What's Boone gonna teach me?"

"I could think of a few things. Big, strong man like him." Cass' grin turned feral as she shook Riley off her. "But realistically I think he'd probably just teach you the many ways in which to frown."

Riley burst out laughing.

"You're alright, Cass."

"I try. You ready to sleep that off now?"

Riley smirked. "Trying to get me into bed. I see how it is. I heard about people like you." She narrowed her eyes accusingly. "Why do you need so many god damn freckles anyway?"

Cass blew out a breath. "Yeah, you've had enough."

"Have not. I can drink you under the table any day of the week."

"You don't want to to go there," Cass smirked. "I can handle my liquor and not act like an idiot. Come on. Upstairs." She stood and hooked a hand under Riley's elbow, giving a firm tug.

"No," Riley pouted petulantly, yanking her arm away. "I am a big girl and I say I stay."

Cass eyed her, hands on her hips as she sized her up. Riley knew the woman couldn't move her; she was bigger and stronger and god dammit, she still knew how dead weight worked, drunk or not. That was a lesson you learned when you were four. Boone hadn't stuck around, he'd just retired to their room once she started drinking, so she knew Cass couldn't recruit him to manhandle her either.

Which was a good thing, because the jerk was making a habit out of it anyway.

Veronica hadn't lasted long either. The Scribe went to bed maybe an hour ago. So really, Cass had no one to back her up.

"Ha!" Riley grinned triumphantly as Cass simply stood there. She grabbed her bottle and finished off the rest of it in a display of profound stubbornness, ending with an unnecessary smacking of her lips. She used the bottle to point at Cass. "You can't make me!"

"Make you what, pretty lady?"

Oh, hell.

She turned her drunken gaze reluctantly and met Tanner's amused lopsided smile. He looked the same, with his slicked back hair and his popped collar. He quirked a brow. "So I heard a funny story today."

She groaned, turning back to rest her head on the counter. "Go away, Tanner."

"About this Courier in town," Tanner went on, taking up the spot on her other side. She could hear the outright _glee _in his voice as he spoke. "Walking around Freeside recruiting some new prostitutes for the Wrangler." He leaned his head in close to hers. "That couldn't have been you, could it?"

She had walked all over Freeside about three times over looking for willing bodies, and not once did she see Tanner anywhere. Now he shows up while she's swimming in drunken fuzzies? Typical.

"What's this?" he snatched the beret off her head and she jerked up, glaring at him as he twirled it around one finger, smiling. "Nice hat."

"That's _mine_," she slurred. "Give it back."

Okay, so it wasn't _really _hers. Boone hadn't asked for it back, however, so she'd simply kept on wearing it.

"Is this an NCR beret?" he went on. He held out the fabric, squinting at the emblem emblazoned on the front. She grabbed it from him, jamming it back onto her head without a care for her hair.

"Mine."

"Riley," Cass coughed. "You going to introduce me to your friend here?"

"Cass," Riley gestured at the woman, then at Tanner. "Tanner. Tanner, Cass."

They shook hands, and Tanner turned his attentions back to Riley. "So was that you? I heard you got Santiago in here turning tricks."

"That-" Riley sighed. "Santiago's a snake 'n he owed Francine money anyway." The mention of money reminded her of her own situation and an idea formed, barely tangible, but she grabbed onto it. "You," she pointed at Tanner. "You told me you could get me in for cheap."

Tanner shook his head. "No. I said I _might _be able to. Never said I actually would."

Cass frowned. "Wait what? You can do that?"

"You didn't hear it from me," Tanner lifted his hands. "There's some red tape to get around if I agree."

"You should do it," Riley declared eagerly. "Cuz we're pals. We're pals, right Tanner?" she made to pat him on the shoulder, but missed and instead gave him an awkward pat on the cheek. He merely watched her, clearly amused but unwilling to stop the entertainment that was a drunk Riley.

"Maybe we'll talk about it when you're sober."

"Bah. Everyone wants to talk when 'm sober," she waved a hand, shaking her head in a slow drunken haze. "You should have a drink with me. Cuz we're pals."

"Smells to me like you've had enough, pretty lady," Tanner shook his head.

"You-" Riley turned in her seat to jab him with a finger. "You are a very rude man."

He had the good grace to look offended. "After I got you clothes so you could be decent? That's kinda harsh, sweetheart. I could have let all of Freeside take a gander at your underwear."

"What?" Cass perked up. "What's this?"

"Oh you didn't hear about it? It's a great story. I'm telling it to my grandkids," Tanner grinned. "See, the pretty lady here walked into Freeside all-"

"Nope! No no no," Riley stood up, intending to look forcefully dramatic but instead found herself falling victim to gravity and about six or seven Rum and Nuka's. Her feet somehow got tangled with the barstool and she flailed. She grabbed clumsily for something, anything, but found no purchase as she toppled to the ground in an ungraceful heap. There was a pause, a brief moment of silence as everyone in the bar turned their attention to her, with only the mechanical clunking of Fisto to break the lull. The robot came to a stop at her head.

"Please assume the position."

Laughter erupted around her. Loud, raucous, drunken laughter. Fuck. This was what she needed. Absolutely. She threw an arm over her eyes, and didn't protest as Cass and Tanner hauled her to her feet, one on each side. The last thing she saw before they dragged her up the stairs was the stupid robot waddling back to make its rounds.


	16. You can trace the tracks I've made

**Author's Note:** _Here I am! Late again! I'm sorry this took so long but omg this chapter. Four rewrites. FOUR. :( I suck. I think it's because everything up until them leaving Novac the second time, that was all planned out for months. I know where I'm going with this story, I do. It's just, the in between scenes? Very very **vague **on them and I find myself agonizing over everything. I'm horrible for this. Now, I am leaving for a small vacation this weekend, but I do have the next chapter pretty much written, so I'll pop it up before I leave for the mountains (again)._

_As always, thank you for reading, following and reviewing! I love you all!_

* * *

The Followers of the Apocalypse were having a busy morning, or - and possibly more likely - Freeside's situation was simply really that bad. Either way, they had no room for Riley to wait in any of the main tents, so they simply parked her in a corner near some crates and told her someone would be along momentarily. When Cass had produced her 'home remedy' for hangovers, Riley had balked at the viscous, muddy looking solution, and instead opted for old world painkillers, and so here she was.

Boone had come with her. At first, she didn't know why he simply didn't wait at the Wrangler with Cass and Veronica, but then again she had to admit that if he had done that she would have been worried. Boone was quite frankly that dependable, and in hindsight, her wandering the streets hungover was probably asking for another mugging, so she was glad to have him with her.

She was positive this would cost her. Old world medicine came at a price, but she was over whining about her financial situation. After all, whining never accomplished anything, her dad used to say, hard work did. So that's what she would do. She'd work hard.

After her head stopped pounding, anyway.

"Hi."

She blinked and looked up, staring at the doctor infront of her. He was tall, handsome and blond, and was currently regarding her with the same sort of patronizing condescendence one gave someone who was caught doing something they knew they shouldn't have. To top it off, he had glasses, and staring at her over the rim of them gave her the impression of a scolding school teacher. She heaved a heavy sigh and looked down at her hands. She hated doctors.

"Hi."

"I'm Arcade Gannon. Doctor Gannon, if you prefer - which I don't."

"What do you prefer?"

"Just Arcade is fine. Julie Farkas sent me," he went on. "I believe I'm supposed to give you something to relieve you of the pain of your bad judgement. Correct me if I'm wrong, of course. Far be it for me to place the blame on the wrong person."

His tone should have irked her, she realized, but it didn't. Instead, she gave a weak smile. "No, that's about right."

There was a pause, as if he'd expected a different response to his sarcasm, before he continued.

"I take it this isn't a habit," he rummaged in his pocket and she could hear the faint clack of a pill bottle. "Most of the people they treat here are addicts and what I'm giving you isn't going to help with an addiction."

"Not a habit," she replied. "Just the first time I've had Rum & Nuka. I kinda… went a little overboard."

Boone snorted derisively beside her and she spared him a glare.

"I see. Well take two of these every four hours and it should keep the headache at bay. Keep hydrated, etcetera etcetera. I'm sure you know the drill better than I would." He shook out six pills and handed them to her. She stared at them.

"What's the damage on these?"

"Talk to Julie about that. I don't usually treat patients, so I'm not certain about protocol on this sort of thing. But as we're understaffed today, Julie saw fit to drag me from my work to treat hangovers." She stared at him blankly, unsure if she was being chastised or not until his mouth twisted up into a kind smile. "Not that I mind, of course. It's rather boring, what I do."

"And that is?" she asked. Boone handed her his canteen and she downed her first two pills.

"Research."

"Sounds exhilarating."

"About as exhilarating as it can get when you know you're just being put to work to keep you away from patients because of your lack of bedside manner. There's only so many ways you can mix various plants before you come to the conclusion that your research is a dead end."

Boone shifted beside her and she fought not to look at him, knowing he'd give her that 'shouldn't we be going?' arch of his brow. Boone was obviously sensing the same thing she had: that this man wanted someone to talk to. The only difference was she wanted to know why, where-as Boone probably didn't give a damn.

"What are you researching?" She asked, and Boone sighed quietly beside her as Arcade launched into a cynical explanation of his work. She looked for an angle to offer her services as he spoke, thinking maybe he needed help finding some rare plant on the other side of the Mojave, but soon came to realize that he wasn't looking for anything other than, as far as she could see, conversation.

"Gannon! There you are." A harried looking doctor interrupted them just as Arcade was getting into his opinions on Caesar, which was probably the only time in the entire conversation that Boone seemed to pay attention. "Julie wants you in the examination room in five minutes. We're getting backed up."

"Well," Arcade sighed, turning to Riley. "As they say, there's no rest for the weary. I'll see you around. Or not, if you can stay away from the Rum & Nuka. Try and stay out of trouble." He gave her a parting smile, and then she was watching his retreating back as he ran off to the examination room.

Riley found and paid Julie - the pills weren't as expensive as she thought they'd be, for which she was grateful - and then she and Boone left the compound.

She kept the pace slow. Her headache had abated some since she took the pills but she wasn't in any hurry to get her blood pumping through a brisk pace. Boone didn't complain, merely kept in line beside her as they wandered the streets of Freeside silently. Gamblers with Kings escorts passed them, groups of pickpockets eyed them from the shroud of darkened alleys, kept at bay only by the large guns slung over their backs and the look on Boone's face. They walked for maybe half an hour before Boone finally spoke.

"What is it?"

She blinked, coming out of her thoughts to stare at him. "What is what?"

"We've been walking a long time now. Figured you'd want to go back to the Wrangler and rest."

"Did you want to go back?" She asked, frowning.

"Rather be doing something," he said, keeping his eyes on the street in front of them.

"And helping me get over a hangover isn't one of them?" she teased. He spared her a look and she grinned. "I'm trying to think. Walking helps me think."

"About what?"

"Jobs. Money. How we can get into the Strip," she shrugged. "If maybe I shouldn't just drop this entire thing and say screw the chip."

It took her a few steps to realise he'd stopped walking, and she turned to see him staring at her oddly.

"You'd do that?" he asked. "Give up?"

"Figured you wouldn't mind," she retorted, feeling defencive. "It'd mean I could go hunt Legion with you sooner rather than later."

"What I want," he said slowly. "Is to pay my debts back. There's only one way for me to do that, and if you come with me you should make sure you're not leaving behind unfinished business."

"Well if that isn't morbid, I don't know what is," she replied wryly.

"It's just how it is."

"You're giving up too easily," she decided. "Dying isn't going to help anyone."

He shook his head, letting out a weary sigh. "You don't understand. It's not going to end unless I do."

"_What's_ not going to end?" She demanded, exasperated. It was tiring trying to figure out his cryptic statements, and it certainly wasn't helping her headache. "What aren't you telling me?" Riley faced him, arms folded, waiting expectantly.

He didn't answer.

"Is this about Bitter Springs? Or is this about your wife?" She guessed. He looked at her sharply, and she took a deep breath as she realised she'd touched on something. "How do you know she's dead, Boone?" she asked quietly. "You never explained that."

"Drop it."

"If she was taken by the Legion then you can't—"

"I said—" he took a step towards her and she blinked, eyes widening a fraction as he took off his aviators to pierce her with the full force of his glare. "Drop it."

She swallowed, highly aware of the irritating itch of fear creeping up her spine as she forced herself to stand her ground. She was tall for a woman, but right now, this close to Boone and with him glaring her down like she was a Legion rat, she felt incredibly small. She shouldn't feel fear around her partner. Noah had never made her afraid. This was wrong.

"I just—" she broke off before her voice could hitch. She didn't want him aware that his intimidation tactics were working. Although a small voice in the back of her head told her he probably knew anyway, it was the principle of the thing. Being afraid and letting your fear be evident were two different things. She refused to lose face.

She took a deep, calming breath, and forced herself to meet his gaze. "I just want to understand you better."

"Don't," he snapped. "It's not worth it."

She wanted to ask what he meant. She wanted to, but she didn't, unable to drum up the courage to give voice to the question. They stared each other down, and she was glad when Tanner yelled at her from a distance, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Riley had no choice but to step away, breaking eye contact so she could wave back.

"I'm heading back," Boone said quietly as Tanner got closer. "I'll see you at the Wrangler." She stared at him incredulously. This conversation wasn't over. They couldn't just leave it like that. He paused before turning, frowning at her expression.

"Just leave it alone, Riley."

Then he was gone. Leaving her to stare after him in a mixture of confusion, irritation, and shame as she realized bringing up Carla was probably the most insensitive thing she could do. Whether or not she wanted answers, she'd crossed a line.

"Did I break up the date? I know you were in the military, but I didn't think you went for military men." Tanner teased as came up beside her. She hit him distractedly, not putting any real force behind it, eyes still on Boone's retreating form. "You hit me a lot harder last time. Losing your touch, pretty lady."

"I have a name, you know."

"I like mine for you better. But as it so happens, your name did come up in a conversation today," he said and she turned to stare at him, perplexed. He grinned now that he had her attention, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and gently guiding her down the street. She let him, if only because she was curious where this was going. She could worry about Boone later.

"I talked to the boss-man," he continued, and she realized they were walking towards the King's School of Impersonation. "I can get you in to talk to him, if you still want to."

"Wait what?" She looked up at him. "Seriously?"

He winked down at her. "Just for you, pretty lady."

"Wait wait wait," she pulled out of his grip and placed her hands on her hips as she faced him. "What exactly did you tell him?"

He shrugged. "That you were looking for a favour, and that you'd heard he was the man to go to. Why?" He smiled knowingly. "You think I told him about your wardrobe malfunction?"

She flushed hotly and Tanner laughed. "I didn't tell him about it. You can relax. Now, if you're done freaking out for no reason," he made a sweeping gesture in front of him. "After you."

"You know, you're surprisingly chivalrous for a street gang," she said as she resumed walking. He fell into step beside her, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Is that a King thing or is that a Tanner thing?"

"A King thing, mostly. You kinda have to agree with the King's philosophy if you want in. Just so happens I do, luckily for you."

"Luck seems to be my thing," she said with a quirk of her lips. "Maybe I should try the tables at the Wrangler. I could win big."

"Honey, with the right connections, you won't need to resort to that." They'd come up to the building, weaving through a group of Kings. She wasn't oblivious to their curious stares, the nudges and the ribbing as Tanner opened the door for her. He smiled at her as she walked through.

"You just gotta trust me."


	17. All across the memories my heart recalls

**Author's Note:** _Posting a little bit earlier than intended because tomorrow morning is going to be SUPER BUSY OMG and knowing me I'll forget to post it then. So. Posting now. Aaaand... s__lowly moving along. Sorry! This chapter originally was meant to go in a different direction, but it got hijacked by aliens. :I_

_Thank you for the reviews/favs/follows! Love you all! Review if you like, as always. :3_

* * *

The King's School of Impersonation was - like the Old Mormon Fort - crowded; many of the Kings taking to the indoors to escape the heat. The main lobby was filled with the pungent scent of leather and hair gel, and Riley's stomach rolled as her headache flared back up. She prayed she wouldn't lose her breakfast on the King's shoes.

"Hang on now, what's going on here?" A King stopped them at the door. He was older and shorter than Tanner, but held the cocky attitude of someone used to being in charge.

"Let me do the talking," Tanner whispered in her ear and stepped forward. "Pacer."

"Tanner. Who's this?"

"We're here to see the King."

"Really?" Pacer's brows went up and his eyes flicked to her face. She stared him down, then realized midway that she wasn't supposed to be trying to intimidate him when she was here for a favour, so she switched to a smile, hoping to show some sort of geniality. It didn't work, Pacer merely smirked and it took her a second to realize he was staring at the beret on her head.

"Anything's possible, I suppose. You know the toll."

"We're expected, Pace," Tanner shoved his hands in his pocket and rocked back on his heels.

"I think she needs to pay a toll," Pacer replied, smiling slowly with his eyes still on her. "Their kind don't get in for free."

Their kind?

Tanner levelled his voice as he stepped forward. He spoke quietly, and Riley had to strain to hear him. "Come on, Pace. The big guy doesn't like waiting, you know that."

"Yeah, whatever," Pacer shrugged, looking away. "You know where to find him." He opened the door for them and Riley followed Tanner through.

"Don't mind Pace," Tanner said quietly. "He's just…"

"An asshole?" she provided. Tanner's lips quirked.

"Among other things. Here." He gestured at a man sitting in front of a stage and Riley turned her focus on him. He wasn't dressed like the other Kings, in their various uniforms of leather and black and denim. Instead, he sported a classy white suit with crisp, clean lines. Veronica would be thrilled with his fashion. A dog - the _strangest _dog she'd ever seen - sat forlornly at his heels as he watched the man on stage get ready for his performance.

She moved forward, but Tanner clamped a hand around her wrist. She looked up at him, confused.

"Wait. Just listen," he whispered. She frowned, and then the man started singing.

_Wise men say only fools rush in. But I can't help falling in love with you…_

Oh.

She stood, enraptured, listening to the entire song. The boy - she could see he was a boy now, maybe no older than eighteen - was very good. And the song itself, well, it was beautiful, slow and lyrical, and she wondered why she'd never heard it before on any of the radio stations. Was it original?

"The kid's name is Chase," Tanner bent slightly, speaking quietly so only she could hear. "He's the best we have. The King's favourite."

The best? At what? Singing? She could believe that. But he looked a little too thin to be out on the streets and she wondered if the King kept him inside for protection. She wanted to ask, but couldn't bring herself to speak while he sang. It was a rare thing to hear music you'd never heard before in the Wasteland. What old world music they had managed to save got played to death on the radio stations, so this? This was special.

Chase closed his song, and Riley joined the King and the rest in the room in applause before Tanner nudged her forward.

Oh jeez.

"Are you the King?" she asked. She was rewarded with a glance over his shoulder, the quirk of a brow and the habitual upturn of a smile. He was handsome, she realized as she stepped into his line of sight. This was a man that oozed sexual appeal and knew it. It was a dangerous combination.

"That would be me," the King smiled. Oh, his voice was great, really sexy; he practically crooned his words. "Look Rexie, someone new has come to see us." The dog - Rexie, she assumed - perked his ears at his name but didn't react otherwise. The King sig[;'hed sadly.

"Poor thing. He's just out of sorts lately," he shook his head as she stood there trying not to gape. "Well," he sat back and focused on her. "Who might you be, sweetheart? And what can the King do for you?" He made a gesture with one hand, and she swallowed hard as the room cleared.

"I uh-" need into the Strip. Need a job. Need a favour. I need a reason to come back in here more often so I can hear you talk. No, stupid, just say your name. "I'm Riley, sir."

"'Sir'," he gave a faint chuckle. "That's a new one. Can't say that it suits me."

She flushed. "Uh-" out of the corner of her eye, she could see Tanner checking the time on his watch. "I um-"

The King waited patiently, smiling. Amusement twinkled in his eye.

Shit.

"I wanted to- to-"

What the absolute fuck? Why was she stuttering like a god damn school girl? He was just a suit with a pretty face. She wasn't some inexperienced naïve girl from California, she was an ex-First Recon Sniper, god dammit. She honed her lock picking skills off getting laid in basic for god's sake; nobody should be affecting her like this.

And why was Tanner leaving? Panic gripped her as she saw him backing out of the room. The door shut quietly behind him, leaving her alone with the King and his dog. Oh hell. Oh shit. He'd abandoned ship. Shit.

Her headache danced joyfully behind her eyes and she fought to keep a pleasant smile on her face.

"You wanted to meet me," the King finished for her and she nodded quickly, releasing the breath she didn't know she was holding. He tapped his finger on the table beside him and she swallowed again. Was he annoyed with her? "My boy Tanner spoke highly of you."

He did?

"He did?"

"He did," the smile grew. "He's a good man. One of my best. He really gets what we're doing around here. Gets the hair just right, too." His hand lifted to smooth his own coif. "He mentioned he got you out of a bind a while back after you took out a troublesome member of the Freeside community for us."

She paled. Tanner said he hadn't told him about the wardrobe incident.

"So while I thank you for that, the question remains," the King went on. "On what I can do for you."

Oh. Maybe he didn't after all.

"Maybe I could do something for you instead?" she suggested. The King paused, brow quirked. A new light came into his eyes as he looked her over, and she had that nagging feeling that she'd said something stupid. She replayed her words over in her mind and slowly felt the heat creep up on her.

"No! I mean- no. I mean-" she swallowed, took a deep breath. "Okay, I know how that sounded. But no."

The King frowned quizzically, tilting his head as if he wasn't quite following her. Again, a replay of her words formulated in her head and she realized she might have just insulted him.

"Not that you aren't- any girl would be lucky to- it isn't like I don't-"

_God, just kill me now._ She was just digging her hole deeper. What Benny didn't finish in Goodsprings, she was doing a fine job finishing here. She stood there floundering, appalled and embarrassed and furious with herself, while the King stared at her.

She expected to be dismissed. Clearly she hadn't put her best foot forward, hadn't shown she was reliable or headstrong or anything other than a stuttering idiot. This was, for all intents and purposes, a bust. But instead, the King laughed. She jerked her head up to watch the mirth play out over his handsome features, moving only when he gestured to the seat across the table from him. She stepped forward cautiously.

"Sit, sit," he said, still laughing. She sat.

"I like you," The King went on. "I like you, so I'm going to tell you that Tanner already told me what it is you want, and it's nice to know I still have that effect on people, so thank you. Thank you very much." He smiled at her baffled expression. "He mentioned you have some skills I can make use of. Said you were in the army. Now I don't take much liking to the NCR poking their noses around in Freeside, and I take even less liking to the amount of squatters we have around here. But you," he nodded. "You I like, and I think we can help each other out."

"You do?" She blinked at him, stunned.

"I do, indeed. Relax yourself a spell," he sat forward in his chair. "And I'll explain the deal."

* * *

"You asked him _what?_" Cass roared with laughter and Riley resisted the urge to drop her head onto the table.

"I basically propositioned him," Riley groaned as she rested her head in her hands. "This keeps up, I might as well look into that fucking brothel."

Cass shook her head, still grinning, as she lifted her drink in a mock salute. "God, you keep things interesting. So what's the job?"

"It's not a job," Riley shook her head. "I mean. It is. Sorta. I'm not getting paid."

Cass shifted in her seat, so she was more sitting across it than in it, resting her boots up on the table and earning a glare from Francine. "And we're doing this why?"

"You don't have to. I can take Veronica. Look, I do enough favours for the King, and he can get me into the Strip without me busting my ass for an extra few thousand caps. Just gets me in quicker."

"Instead you just have to bust your ass for free," Cass snorted. "Fucking bullshit deal right there, if you ask me. Rather be making more money out of it if we're going to be out there working, but it's your vendetta." She waved James over for a refill and Riley picked at her lunch. The gecko steak wasn't Veronica's cooking, though, and Riley stabbed at it listlessly.

Veronica had abandoned them once Riley told her about the Old Mormon Fort, intent on checking it out despite Riley's protests. She worried because the Brotherhood and the Followers didn't exactly sit on the same theological podium, but Veronica assured her she only wanted to see what they were doing, so Riley dropped it and let her go.

"So what's up with Boone?" Cass asked, nodding to James as he sat another bottle of beer next to her. "Came back here more surly than usual. And that's saying something."

"Fucked if I know," Riley sighed. "If you ask him and get a straight answer, let me know and I'll buy you something shiny."

"Make it a shiny bottle of whiskey and you have yourself a deal," Cass grinned. She twisted the cap off the bottle and tossed it across the table. Riley slid it into her pocket. "So what? You two had a fight?"

"Something like that. Doesn't matter," she jabbed her steak with more force than was necessary and had Cass watching her with raised eyebrows. She decided to change the subject.

"So, I know I was drunk last night, but I seem to recall you mentioning you needing a favour."

"Ah," Cass sat up straighter. "Right. That. I just want to take a small trip, that's all. Wanted to know if you'd come with me."

"Trip where?" Riley frowned.

"Don't give me that look. It ain't far." Cass sat back in her chair, sulking a little. "I want to visit my caravan wreckage. Pay my respects, you know?"

Riley fell silent as she picked at her food. Her words from the Mojave Outpost came back to her, punctuating in hindsight how insensitive she'd been to the other woman. Coupled with her bringing up Carla to Boone and she was starting to see herself as a bit of an insensitive bitch. Was that her thing? Was she always like that or was she just realizing this now?

"Look," she dropped her fork. "I never apologized for what happened at the Outpost. What I said was-" she searched for the right adjective to highlight her stupidity.

"Stupid," Cass pursed her lips. She lifted a hand and began ticking off each finger. "Insensitive. Rude. Cold. Tactless. Un-"

"Okay," Riley held up her hands. "I get it. But yes. It was all of those things. So I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," Cass smiled. "You can buy me a drink later to seal the deal. Does that mean you'll come with me?"

"Sure," she shrugged. "Whenever you're ready."

"Let me finish my beer and we can go," Cass sat back, tipped her bottle back and eyed Riley across the table. "We bringing Boone?"

"I dunno. How far is it?"

Cass dug a scrap of paper out of her jean pocket and tossed it across to her. Picking it up, Riley saw that it was a set of coordinates, and set about inputting it into her Pip-Boy. She frowned as the map brought up the location.

"McCarran?" she looked up. "How did-"

"I don't fucking know," Cass shook her head. "I wanna find out, but I'm not gonna hold my breath. I just want to get out there."

"Okay," Riley nodded, staring back down at the map, thinking. "This isn't far. We can get there and back in a few hours."

"So, no Boone?"

"No Boone."

Cass gestured with her beer. "Your funeral when we get back."

"Oh shut up," Riley rolled her eyes. "He's a big boy, he can handle being left alone for a few hours."

"I still say he needs a good lay," Cass nodded. "It'd set him straight."

"We talked about this," Riley warned.

"Just saying," Cass shrugged. "Come on, Riley. Look at him. You can't tell me you haven't."

"I look at him every god damn day, but not like you're looking at him."

"You," Cass said, putting her drink down delicately. "Are the biggest bullshitter in the Mojave."

Riley couldn't help but laugh. "Finish your beer. I wanna be back by dinner."


	18. But I'm just a refugee

**Author's Note: ** _A bit of a long-ish one! Well, longer than usual, at any rate. __Thank you for reading/following/reviewing!_

* * *

There was nothing to find except the rotting corpse of the brahmin. McCarran was practically in spitting distance, and Riley stood there frowning while Cass lingered over the ruins of her caravan, picking at broken crates and torn satchels. No bodies to bury. Nothing to take with them. Just the stench of month old carcass and the pain of loss etched on Cass' face.

"I don't know what the hell I was hoping for," Cass said after a while. Riley had taken a knee nearby, taking a long drink from her canteen. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and offered it up to Cass.

"It's been over a month," Riley reminded her, squinting against the sun. "Nothing would last that long on a main road like this."

Cass sighed, accepting the canteen and taking her own drink from it. "I don't get it. They didn't take the water."

"What?"

"The crates, inside the crates everything's just… disintegrated. Fuckers," Cass spat on the ground, her face contorting angrily. It made her freckles more prominent, Riley noticed. "It's a god damn waste is what it is."

"What I want to know is where the bodies are. Did NCR pick them up?"

Cass frowned, looked around. "The report I got said there were no bodies when the Rangers found it. All it said is it was burned to ash. But this isn't burned," she gestured at the wagon. "There was no fire. This looks like the work of energy weapons, if I had my guess. As for the bodies… I guess animals could have gotten to them. Coyotes maybe."

It was possible, Riley thought, and it would be easy to chalk it up to just that, but something wasn't sitting right with her. She took her canteen back and stood, looking over the remains with a grimace. The smell from the brahmin was rancid, the buzzing of flies and the squelching sound of maggots the only thing to burn the silence around them. If animals took the bodies, why was the brahmin untouched?

She let that thought shift to the back of her mind as she turned, taking in their surroundings, looking for threats and thinking about their next move. In the distance, she could hear the echo of gunfire. Too far to be worrisome, just a constant reminder there were others out there, fighting to survive. A fight Cass' caravan had lost.

"You know, we're close to Fiend territory."

"I was thinking that, too," Cass shook her head bitterly. "Possible, I guess, and wouldn't be the first time a caravan ran afoul of Fiends. Doesn't matter, though. Still no answers. Just more questions and a fucking waste of life." She turned her back to the remains and nodded once. "But you brought me here like I asked, and I appreciate it. Really."

"Anytime," Riley nodded and they started the walk back. "Did they have family?"

Cass sighed wearily.

"Carl had family in New Reno. I already sent them a letter. The rest, I'm not sure."

"What about like, burials?"

"Nothing to bury," Cass reminded her.

"You don't necessarily need a body," Riley pointed out. "My parents? They died in a natural disaster out west. Earthquake, I was told. No bodies to find. Area was laid to waste, too dangerous to send people in to look. I dug two graves for them anyway." Took an entire day, she remembered, in the blistering heat. The pain of it helped as much as the act itself. "Helps, you know? To have something to visit, lay flowers on."

"Some people need that. That sort of closure." Cass kept her eyes locked ahead of her. "I don't."

"What kind of closure do you need?"

"For starters?" Cass looked over, her face hard. "Revenge."

* * *

They were late in getting back to the Wrangler. The sun was starting to set when they walked in, covered in dust and hungry for a meal. Cass had worked off some of her frustrations by brawling with an idiot in the streets, some fool who decided catcalling the woman with the shotgun was a good idea. Riley let her, only stepping in when she noticed they'd attracted the attentions of some of the Kings. It worked; Cass walked into the Wrangler in better spirits, and made a beeline straight for the bar.

"Order me one," Riley called out, sidestepping Fisto as she made for the stairs. She'd been working over her apology in her head for the better part of the last three hours. It was time to get it over with.

When she opened the door to their room, she found Boone sitting on the bed, his elbows rested on his knees and his hands raised in a contemplative manner. He'd cleaned the room by the looks of it. Their packs were arranged neatly against the wall, their bedrolls rolled up neatly and stacked in the corner. The radio was on, and Helen Forest was crooning the last few lines to 'Mad About the Boy'.

"Hey," she shut the door behind her and took a step into the room. Just get it over with, she told herself. "Look, I wanted to-"

"Shhh," he lifted a finger, gestured once towards the radio. "Did you hear?"

"Hear-?" she frowned. This wasn't exactly going according to plan. "Hear what? The song?"

"Just listen."

Well. Okay. Guess the apology could wait for Helen Forest to finish. She wasn't aware Boone was a particular fan. She folded her arms across her chest and waited. When the song ended, however, and she opened her mouth to speak, Boone lifted a hand again. Wait.

"You're listening to Radio New Vegas, your little jukebox in the Mojave Wasteland. I'm Mr. New Vegas, and I'm here for you. You know, they say that 'No news is good news,' but my job would be awfully dull if that were the case. A package courier found shot in the head near Goodsprings has reportedly regained consciousness, and has made a full recovery. Now _that _is a delivery service you can count on."

She snorted with laughter. "Cute. Listen-"

"That's not it," Boone shook his head.

"Caesar's Legion continues to fortify its position in Nelson, where it remains a constant concern for Camp Forlorn Hope and the nearby town of Novac," Mr. New Vegas went on and Riley blinked. Nelson? When did that happen? "In other news, citizens of Outer Vegas are flocking to the Strip in droves amid-"

Boone stood and turned off the radio. He said nothing, just turned around and stood there staring at her as if waiting for her decision. She frowned in confusion, then, as understanding dawned, a sort of horror stretched across her face.

"_Now?_" she squeaked. His scowl deepened and she lifted her hands. "Wait. Wait, just wait. When did this happen?"

"Reports said yesterday. Last night, if you want to be more specific."

When she was getting shit faced drunk and making a fool of herself downstairs, she noted wryly. She paced a little, biting her thumb as she moved. Nelson was a half day's walk. She hadn't eaten yet, she doubted Boone had either. Even if they left now, they'd be arriving well after midnight.

Travelling at night was a bad idea, especially if they were walking right into Legion territory. You couldn't see for shit at night out in the Wasteland, and she would know - it was how she got into this entire mess with Benny in the first place. But, she reminded herself, there were ways around that.

"Cateye," she murmured. She stopped pacing, realizing she was already thinking of ways to infiltrate. Boone appeared to notice too, since his mouth was tugging up at one corner. She set her face into a scowl.

"I want to eat first," she declared, grabbing her pack and sorting through one of the side pockets. "I am not walking on an empty stomach. You too," she decided as she stood up. "We're going to need fuel for this."

"The girls?" He asked.

"Shit," she blew out a breath. "Okay. I'm gonna go get Veronica. You go order us some food, and fill Cass in. Wait." She turned away from the door, eyes closed for a brief second as she reminded herself on the reason she came up here in the first place. She opened them, met his gaze.

"Wait. I wanted to apologize to you. What I said this morning, about Carla, I didn't mean to push. When you want to tell me, _if_ you want to tell me," she amended. "I can wait."

"You want to apologize?" Boone grabbed his rifle. "Help me kill these sons of bitches."

She grinned. "That I can do."

She turned back toward the door. "Order the food! Steak!" she shouted over her shoulder. "I want steak!"

* * *

"I can't see for shit," Cass bitched in the dark. "Whose hand is that? Boone, if that's you-"

"It's not."

"Aw."

"It's me," Veronica piped up. "Have you been working out?"

"Haven't been getting any regular workouts lately, if you know what I mean."

Riley sighed and beside her, Boone did the same. If they could see each other, she imagined they'd be sharing a pained look and a roll of their eyes.

"Pop your Cateye and keep your voices down," she said quietly. "We're almost there."

"I don't see why we couldn't wait until morning," Veronica muttered as they stopped walking. Riley could hear them rummaging for the little bottles of pills she'd bought them earlier. "They're not going anywhere."

"That's the point," Riley sighed again, pulling out her own bottle of Cateye. "The less time they have to get comfortable with the area the better." She shook out two pills, grimaced, and swallowed them whole. It took a few moments before her eyes started to burn and she rubbed at them irritably.

"God I hate this stuff," she muttered, opening her eyes to a landscape awash in blue hue. Beside her, Cass was holding the bottle in her hand, but she was making no move to open it.

"What's in this stuff?" She asked.

"Hell if I know. Why?"

"Because I have a heart condition," Cass snapped. "I can't take chems."

"It should be fine," Boone said, popping open his own bottle. "Affects your retinas. Non-addictive."

Cass grimaced, but decided to go with it. She shook out two pills and swallowed them. A few moments later and she was doubled over with her head in her hands, and Riley realized she should have probably warned her about the initial set-in.

"You okay?"

"Head," Cass winced. "Son of a whore, that burns." When she lifted her head, she blinked rapidly and blew out a low whistle.

"Well ain't this pretty."

"Keep them close at hand. We'll have an advantage," Riley explained, tucking the pill bottle back into her pocket. "Legion doesn't use chems, so they'll be blind in the dark."

"And we won't," Cass nodded. "Smart."

"Expensive," Riley corrected. Ralph and his prices had taken a decent chunk out of her wallet. "Lights will blind us, so be careful." Veronica was shaking her head as if to clear it now, and Boone had removed his shades, tucking them into the hem of his collar. He met her gaze, nodded once and they set off again.

"Gonna sleep like the dead after today," Cass groaned as they walked. Riley couldn't help but agree. It had been a long-ass day, and it was only getting longer with them planning an assault on a Legion-occupied town. On the other hand they might not make it through the night at all and 'sleeping like the dead' might take on a far more literal meaning.

They walked for another hour before her Pip-Boy map told her they were close. She could see Dinky's empty mouth across the bridge and she grimaced. Novac could be next, and she'd taken their night time sniper. If they got hit, that would be on her.

She scouted ahead, making sure the road was clear of Legion before waving them forward.

"There's an NCR post up ahead," she said quietly. "Not a lot of man power. We might be doing this on our own."

"Fine by me," Boone shrugged. She glared at him. Well it wasn't fine with her.

"I see red, I shoot, remember?" He reminded her, seeing her disapproval.

"That's not a problem, that's a solution in this case."

He smirked. "Damn straight. You and me, we're just a couple of problem solvers."

"Well lookie there," Cass grinned, nudging Boone lightly with her elbow. "Suggest mass murder and the guy's all smiles. Why didn't I think of that?"

"How are you going to see red when all we see is blue?" Veronica wondered. Riley snorted briefly, holding back a laugh. She covered her mouth with her hand and cleared her throat.

"Come on, let's go see what the CO of this operation has to say."

The Commanding Officer was a Ranger, and he had plenty to say, most of which Riley didn't like. She was slightly taken aback by the fact that he knew who she was when she introduced herself, though. Apparently Ghost had kept her word about putting in a good word for her. Fancy that.

While she got debriefed on the situation with Ranger Milo, Boone wandered to the over-look, sweeping his scope over the town. Veronica joined him, and she could hear them talking in low voices.

"Look, I heard good things about you," Ranger Milo said, snapping her attention back to him. "Word from the Outpost is you put in a good effort for the NCR out there, but if you're not willing to get your hands dirty here, best you turn around now, and leave this to the professionals."

"Ghost mention I'm ex-First Recon?"

His paused. "No," he said, his tone careful. "She said you were a Courier. Which is it?"

"I'm an Ex-First-Recon-Sniper-turned-Courier," she smiled. "Better benefits."

"Well if that's so, you out of all people should know what we have to do here. Those men down there are a lost cause, and they're not helping us retake that town by staying alive."

"Wha- Mercy killing? Really?" She breathed angrily through her nose. "It's a little early to be considering that, don't you think? They've been down there not even thirty-six hours and you're giving up on them?"

"If you want my men to back you up on this, you need to end the suffering of the men down on those crosses. They're not going to go down there if those men are at any sort of risk." He jabbed a finger at her chest. "So remove the risk. Those are your orders, soldier."

"But-"

"You can't handle this, you made a right decision leaving the military."

Her eyes narrowed. He had no idea, no _right _to pass judgement on that.

"Don't go there."

"How many mercy killings have you done?" He asked her.

"Too fucking many," she snapped.

"Every time you do it, what happens?"

"We win," she snarled. "But it doesn't make it right. I can't-" She threw up her hands. Milo waited expectantly. "I can't make this decision. I need to talk this over with my team." She turned on her heel, stalking away from him and joining Boone overlooking the town.

"Pig-headed asshole," she muttered. "Not you." She cracked a smile at Boone's sharp glare and jerked her head down toward Nelson. "What do we have?"

Boone laid it all out, scrawling in the dirt like she did in Nipton as they all crouched around it, using her Pip-Boy as a light source. It was fairly detailed, she noted, the way he pointed out every guard post and choke point. Some of them they didn't even have a line of sight on from where they were. She asked about it and he gave a one shouldered shrug.

"Knew some soldiers that were stationed here," he explained. "I used to come here a few times a week to play poker back when-" he trailed off, rubbed at his mouth as if he had an itch. "Back when I had time."

Back when Carla was still alive, he meant. She nodded, accepting that for now and gestured at the guard posts that were further east, on the farther sides of town.

"Veronica and Cass should take these plus these patrols," she indicated two lines she'd made from the intel she got from Milo. "We can take the ones up in the hills here and… here. And set up shop at a suitable location. I want this quiet," she looked around at all of them. "I don't want them aware of what's going on for as long as possible. At the very least, I want the perimeter empty of Legion before the alarm goes up."

"My gun makes that a problem," Cass pointed out. "It packs a bang."

Riley nodded. "Okay. I have a silenced .22 you can use. Push comes to shove though, use what you need to stay alive. And keep the Cateye on, watch for mines. Remember what happens when you take the pills, make sure you're covered when it hits. And I don't want you two entering the town through the gate." She jabbed a finger in the sand. "Too much light. Stay in the dark, it's the only way we have an advantage."

"He say where the officers were?" Boone asked. Riley nodded, pointing at a building on the map that was close to where the crosses stood.

"How bad are they?" Riley asked. "The guys down there on the crosses."

"They're fine," Boone replied. "Haven't been up long. Why?" He looked up at her. She stared back. Boone read what was on her face and cursed. "He wants us to take them out."

"Yep."

"Wait what? Why?" Cass frowned. "What the fuck for?"

Boone grimaced. "Standard procedure."

"Meaning-?"

"Meaning," Boone sighed. "They string up those men to lower NCR moral. It works. First Recon gets called on to end it, lets the men focus on the mission, instead of wasting time worrying about men they can't save."

"Fido over there wants you guys to do that?" Cass jerked a thumb in Milo's direction. "Are you?"

Boone met Riley's gaze. "What do you want to do?"

"I've had enough of mercy killing," she said tightly, remembering Nipton.

"Last resort only?" He raised an eyebrow and she nodded. There, she thought. It was decided.

"Won't get any support this way," Riley said, adjusting her beret. "Just us."

"Useless," Cass sighed. "Fine. What happens when we get in to town?"

"We toss a grenade in the building and flush 'em out," Riley shrugged. "That's the easy part. If we make it that far without raising the alarm."

"They have dogs," Veronica put in.

"Shit. I hate dogs," Riley muttered, running a hand over her face. "Okay. Dogs die first before the handlers. They're quick and can sniff you out faster." She paused, running numbers over in her head. "Twenty? Ish? Of them," she explained. "Four of us." She took a deep breath. "Interesting odds."

"Can we do this?" Cass asked. "Seriously. Don't sugar coat it."

Riley exchanged a look with Boone.

"Well. We're about to find out."

* * *

She was tired. Dead fucking tired. Sleep called to her, but it would have to wait as she skulked through the darkness, staying as low to the ground as she could. The hill they were climbing up had a path up to the first look-out post, but they weren't using it. Boone had spotted mines scattered all over it, and so they had to circle around, not wanting to waste time disarming bombs in the dark when they could easily forge their own path.

They came up on the first guard post and stopped about fifty feet away, using an outcropping of rock for cover. She let Boone take point, and he used hand gestures to tell her there was one guard patrolling, and one in the nest. She nodded, and they switched positions as she lined up to take the shot. She was the one with the suppressor, after all.

Boone moved so that he was leaning close over her left shoulder, one palm laying gently in the small of her back. He pointed at the guard in the nest and she set her sights on him first, waiting patiently as Boone kept an eye on the patrol, making sure he was well out of range. Seconds ticked by before the gentle pressure of his hand was lifted, and she took the signal to pull the trigger.

The legionary went sprawling forward over the sandbags, ass up. One dead. She lined up her next shot and they repeated the process, then secured the area by checking for more patrols before moving on to the next one. It was the first time since she met him that they actually got to work together like a sniper team was supposed to. Everything they'd come across so far she either didn't have the proper weapon for spotting to be useful, or the enemy wasn't worth the effort. So this? This was nice.

By the time they'd found a site to set up a sniping position, Riley's nerves were starting to waver. How were the girls doing? She hadn't heard any sort of commotion from down below, but that was good right? They were okay, right?

"Stop worrying," Boone breathed next to her.

"Can't help it," she whispered back. "Civilian. They're not- We should have left them back at camp."

"Look," he lifted his head from his scope. "Watch tower on the north side, down the hill."

She lifted her scope, adjusting the zoom so she could focus in on what he was talking about. The post was empty, the corpse of a dog the only thing visible from where she was. She scanned the area for the patrol that was supposed to be there and found nothing.

"They're fine," Boone nodded. "There, behind that building."

She could see them now, right underneath them, crouched low in the shadows of a building. She was tempted to throw a pebble at them, but didn't want to risk one of them yelping in surprise.

"Few more we have to take out," Boone reminded her. "East side of town. Guard tower."

"I see it. One guard."

"Take the shot."

She took a deep breath, counted her heartbeats, and timed the pull of her trigger as she released her breath. The guard fell forward, right out of the nest. He landed in the dirt below with a loud 'thump' and she cursed, lifting her head from her scope. A dog started barking and she could see the guard from the front gate moving to investigate.

"Shit."

"Gonna get loud," Boone lifted his rifle, lined up his sights. "Get ready."

His rifle cracked loudly beside her and the dog dropped to the ground with a pained yelp. She could see Veronica rushing up to the investigating soldier, and he barely had time to react before she snapped his neck and he crumpled to the ground like a doll. Shouts went up, lights turned on in the main building and there was a commotion as soldiers started filtering out of the front door.

"First," Boone said, taking down the first soldier that emerged from the building. Riley took out the second, and then the door slammed closed. She couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Guess we have to go down and use that grenade plan after all."

"Wait," Boone said. She listened. A dog was still barking, the sound echoing off the cliffs. They'd missed a patrol, and she couldn't tell which direction they were coming from.

"Shit, where is it?" She swept her scope over the town, noting Veronica had ducked underneath the guard tower next to the corpse she'd dropped and Cass was slinking around to a different house so she had a better view of Veronica.

"I don't see it, do you?"

"Keep looking," he ordered.

She did another sweep over the town, seeing nothing until- there! She could see the dog and the soldier running up the north path that Veronica and Cass had used to get into town. She fired at the dog, but both shots missed. It was moving too fast and she was at an awkward angle for aiming.

To top it off, the dog was was running right for Cass, and Veronica was on the other side of town.

Boone fired and missed, he cursed, pushing himself to his feet and taking off down the steep incline. Riley tried firing again, and missed. Again. Frustrated, she lowered her rifle.

"Cass!" she shouted, loud and clear into the night. It worked, Cass turned just as the dog rounded the corner, but she didn't have time to aim as the dog lunged at her and they both went down.

Riley cursed, trying to set up a shot, but couldn't get anything clear as Cass struggled to keep the dog's snapping maw at bay. It was too risky, she didn't want to chance hitting her. She could hear her panicked cries, and then she heard a surprised holler as Boone got the drop on the soldier catching up. They scuffled for a few moments, but Boone had the upper-hand, using the butt of his rifle to beat the other man down before pulling his sidearm and finishing the job.

The door to the building swung open and she cursed again. Swinging her scope to check on Cass still fighting with the dog and then back up to notice Veronica had emerged from her hiding position. Two soldiers had emerged from the building, and they weren't armed with melee weapons, but had automatic rifles, and they were now aimed at Veronica.

Panick threatened to slap her upside the head, but she found the steady hand it took to take one out quickly. She lined up the next shot, ready to end it, when her vision started to blur. She blinked, thinking maybe she got dust in her eyes when vertigo slammed into her and she clutched at the ground as she struggled to focus on gravity.

The Cateye. She'd forgotten to keep her dosage up. She scrambled for the pill bottle, wrestling it free from her pocket as her vision darkened. She could hear Cass give a pained scream, there was gunfire. The dog stopped barking. She couldn't get the lid off, cursing until finally she freed it and managed to shake out a few pills. Her eyes burned, she shook her head, and then lifted her scope, fearing for the worst.

Boone was helping Cass to her feet, but she was cradling her arm and her shirt looked soaked. The dog lay dead a few feet away. Veronica was sitting on the porch, hunched over and looking utterly exhausted. The bodies of the downed legionaries scattered around her. Riley scrambled to her feet, swinging her rifle over her shoulder so she could vault over obstacles with more ease as she ran down the hill.

She reached Cass first. Boone was looking at her arm and Cass was swearing up a storm.

"Jesus," Riley slowed to a halt as she got closer. "Is it bad? Cass I'm so sorr-"

"Don't. Don't start with that," Cass said wearily, almost pleadingly. "I heard you, right? Probably saved my life. Just a bite. He got me pretty good though, son of a bitch. Ha. See what I did there?" She winced as Boone prodded a little too forcefully, and swatted at him with her good hand. "Watch it!"

"You'll live." Boone declared.

"No shit," Cass grumbled. "Probably had fucking rabies. Fucking Jesus Christ," she found a stack of crates and plopped herself down. Riley decided she was fine and jogged over to Veronica. She was still hunched over, but looked up with a smile as Riley got closer.

"We won."

"Yeah." Exhausted, she took a seat next to her. "Right. Were you hurt?"

"Nah. Scraped my knees a little. Kiss 'em better?"

Riley laughed. "Maybe later. Sorry about that last guy there. Cateye." She sighed. "Wore off at a bad fucking time."

Veronica bumped shoulders with her gently. "You shooting the first one distracted the other guy. Gave me time to rush in and seal the deal. How's Cass?"

"Swearing up a storm."

"That's good, right?"

"More or less." Groaning, she pushed herself to her feet. "Come on, let's cut these guys down."

Twenty minutes later, she staggered up the road to Ranger Milo as the sun rose behind her. She, Boone, and Veronica were each supporting one of the soldiers they'd rescued and Cass walked beside them, looking surly.

"You-" Milo stepped forward as they came up into view. The expression on his face was utterly stunned. "You did it."

"No thanks to you," Cass snarled. "God damn, I knew the army was in rough shape, didn't know it was filled with spineless dickheads."

"Well now you can claim the hero, can't you?" Milo shot back. Men were rushing forward, relieving them of their burden and Riley passed them off gratefully to be looked at. She wanted a bath. And food. And a bed.

Mostly the bed.

"Hey."

She looked over to see Boone standing next to her. He had his shades back on, and she inclined her head curiously.

"Hey."

"You did good."

She grinned. Like an idiot. An over-tired idiot who hadn't heard a compliment out of Boone since she met him was bound to grin like a fool, she told herself.

"Weren't so bad yourself. You're a damn good spotter, you know that?"

He smirked. "I guess. Make a good team."

"Christ, get a room," Cass groaned, sagging against the sandbags behind them. They turned to stare at her. "Can we hoof it to Novac now? Or do I have to bleed out before I get some damn attention? And if anyone bitches about me drinking in the next week, they can shove it up their ass. Girl liberates a town and nearly loses her arm to a flea-infested mutt, I say she's entitled to a god damn bender."

"Cass," Riley shook her head, smiling. "I will buy you the first round."


	19. Won't you say a prayer for me

**Author's Note: **_A few things! One, I'm sorry I haven't replied to many (if any) of the reviews lately. I've been lazy :( then with my PC problems (long story, I had to do a full restore, lost a lot of things) I just got distracted with trying to get everything installed again. Know that I appreciate each and every one, and welcome all comments and constructive criticism and even internet high fives. Two,- ...Okay maybe it was only the one thing. Thank you for reading!_

* * *

They didn't go to Novac. Despite how tired they were, having not slept in over twenty-four hours, Riley couldn't let Cass' arm go untreated. It was a vicious bite; the lacerations had torn through her jacket, through skin and muscle, and left her arm looking like it belonged to a ghoul. She'd tended to it as best she could, using what medical supplies she had in her pack, but in the end, she had to admit she was no doctor. And Cass needed stitches.

They walked to Camp Forlorn Hope with the rescued soldiers and an escort. They were exhausted, and didn't speak the entire walk there, stopping only occasionally to check on Cass' arm. By the time they reached the camp, Riley could have slept anywhere and not given a damn, but she had to make sure Cass was treated first.

They were welcomed warmly. Ranger Milo had radioed ahead, informing the Camp about their arrival and who they were. Beds had been set aside for them, but Riley ushered Cass to the medical tent instead. Veronica opted for the bed, but Boone stayed with them.

"Wow," Cass said once inside. Riley stepped in behind her, wrinkling her nose immediately at the smell of stale blood and antiseptic. "This looks more like a god damn chop shop than a field hospital." She turned around, wide-eyed. Maybe it was the lighting, but Riley thought she was looking paler than usual, and wasn't sure if that was from the loss of blood, either. "Let's go to Freeside. The Followers can stitch this up."

"You want to walk another eight hours before you get proper treatment?" Riley asked, bewildered. Her legs cried at the mere thought.

"Riley?"

She blinked at the familiar voice, straining in the dim light of the tent to find the source. "Alex?"

Doctor Alex Richards stepped out from the shadows in the far corner, wiping blood off his hands with a dirty towel. She grinned and ran forward, gripping him in a firm hug, then squealing with laughter as he lifted her off the ground in a small spin. Cass gave Boone an inquiring look, but he merely shrugged.

"How you been?" She asked once she was set down again. "I thought you were leaving the military. Why are you still here?"

"I am. Or. I will." He sighed, lifted his hands helplessly. "My conscience won't let me when things are this bad." He glanced over at her friends, smiling politely. "What brings you here?"

"We uh, liberated Nelson," she explained. "Cass here got the worst of it though. Dog attacked her, tore her arm up pretty good. I think she needs stitches."

"_You _liberated Nelson?" He lifted his brows. "News went through the camp this morning, said there was a third party involved. Never thought I'd see you rushing into Legion controlled territory after what happened."

Her smile fell a little, and Alex smiled sympathetically. She hadn't known he knew about what happened to her, but she supposed word must have gotten around when she escaped. He stepped around her, hand extended and Boone gripped it firmly as they exchanged names.

"Well. Let's have a look at that arm." He turned, accepting Cass' injured arm and slowly unraveling the dressing Riley had applied. He prodded gently here and there, asked her to do a few things with her wrist and fingers to check for nerve damage, and then ushered her to a free bed. Riley followed slowly behind, taking in the filled beds with a grim sort of acceptance.

There were men here, good men, that were injured or dying because of this war with the Legion. A war she opted out of. Alex had stayed, unwilling to go back to California when his talents were so sorely needed here. And she? She had ran.

She'd be lying if she said that fact didn't bring on a good serving of guilt when she was in a place like this.

"Friend of yours?" Boone asked quietly beside her. She nodded wearily.

"He sort of just… always showed up wherever I was stationed," she shrugged. "Got to know him pretty well."

"Good doctor?"

She smiled slightly. "He's no brain surgeon, if that's what you're asking. But he can handle this. He's a good man. A good friend."

"You two-?"

"Hmm?" she turned her head, frowning at his tone. Understanding set in and she had to laugh. "Oh, no. God no. Good friend. Bats for the other team. You'd have more luck getting him on a date than I would."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

"Was he talking about Cottonwood? Earlier," he explained. "When he said he didn't think you'd venture into Legion territory again after what happened."

She took a deep breath. He hadn't brought up Cottonwood since the Outpost.

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

She said nothing, watching as Alex helped Cass remove her jacket while she debated with herself. She could tell him the basics. He deserved that much.

"One second," she said, and marched over to where Cass was hissing as Alex dabbed her wounds with alcohol. She cleared her throat and Cass looked up.

"Hey. We'll be outside, okay?"

"You might as well get some rest," Alex said without looking up from his work. "I'm gonna be at this a while. She's got some pretty deep lacerations here."

She looked at Cass. She sighed and jerked her head toward the door. "Go on. I'll be fine."

"You're sure?"

"No, I just said that for shits and giggles." Cass rolled her eyes. "Go."

She left the tent, gesturing for Boone to follow her.

"Luck," she said once outside. Boone frowned.

"What?"

She moved, walking off toward the barracks and he followed. She kept a slow pace. It was a hot day as per usual, and she was dead tired, but maybe this just needed to be said. "I told you I escaped Cottonwood because of luck, right?"

"Yeah."

She inhaled deeply. "That's not… it's not a lie. I escaped into the river. I used the current, swam downstream. Made my way back up to Searchlight."

His frown turned quizzical. "And they let you?"

"It wasn't that. They didn't notice I'd ran for the river until it was too late. They fired on me," she nodded. "Once I'd gotten too far out for them to follow, they started firing. Missed." She laughed lightly. "Had like six of them with automatic rifles and shotguns and they aim about as well as Veronica. Luck." She said again.

"How-"

"Did I get out of the cage? How did none of them notice me run for the water? How did I get the collar off?" she kicked at a random stone, sent it flying until it hit the side of a building. Boone waited patiently.

"Auction day. Captives don't wear the collars on Auction Day. They make you strip, you see. When they're selling you." She looked over at him, noted his face had gone carefully blank. "Collars get in the way. They put the collar back on you once you're sold, give your new owner the detonator device. Anyways. It was Auction Day. And I was in line, waiting for my turn to be sold. I saw an opportunity to get to the river. I took it. It paid off."

He looked at her.

"That's it? You saw an opportunity?"

"What do you want me to say?" She stopped walking, irritated, and faced him. "That I took out five legionaries single-handed before escaping into the river? I just fucking ran. I thought- I thought that if I had the chance, that Noah would have wanted me to take it. He told me-" her voice broke a little and she cursed inwardly, took another breath.

"He told me before he died. This was on the first day, when they first put him up on the cross and made me watch. He said 'You'll get out. I know you will. Don't worry about me.' So yeah. When I saw an opportunity. I took it."

She was avoiding a key detail in this story, of course. The death of the girl on the podium. The girl who saved her life by dying. Riley's _opportunity _had only presented itself because of her. She wasn't stupid, wasn't naïve. People die all the time in the Wasteland; add war to the equation and that number multiplies exponentially. But she never thought she'd be one to use another's death in that way, as nothing more than a way to save her own skin.

"What would you have done?" she demanded. "If it was you, what would you have done?"

He stared at her. "Nobody's blaming you for escaping, Riley."

"It feels like it," she snapped. "I failed. I know that. All those other people. I was the only one there that was military. The only one. And I left them to-"

"What were you supposed to do?" he asked, his voice hard. "Stay there and die with them? You weren't responsible for them. You said so yourself that Wilson would have wanted you to get out, so why are you beating yourself up over this?"

"Because that's all I do!" she exclaimed, exasperated. She started pacing in place, rubbing at her eyes, the back of her neck, gesturing erratically when she wasn't doing either. "Run away. Run. Hide. Ran from the Legion, then I ran from the army. Then I spent an entire year — an entire fucking _year_ — hiding behind a job that pays for _shit. _And I didn't even take half the jobs offered to me because it would have brought me east. It would have brought me closer to _this." _She swept her arm out wide. "Closer to this, closer to Legion, closer to memories of what happened there. Then the one job - the _one _job that comes by that pays well that I take and I end up with two bullets in the head and I couldn't run from that if I fucking _tried_."

She stopped to breathe, aware that she was ranting and taking out her frustrations on him. She was tired, exhausted, stressed, and feeling guilty about Cass' arm. She prided herself on not crying. She hadn't cried — not once — since Noah. She'd cried enough those days to last her a god damn life time. But she was coming close now.

Boone watched her carefully.

"You didn't run in Nipton," he pointed out. "Or in Nelson."

"I wanted to," she laughed humorlessly. "I didn't want to go anywhere _near_ Nipton when we realized it'd been hit."

"Then why did you take me with you?" he asked and she stopped pacing, looking up at him helplessly. "You knew what I wanted. You said we'd kill more Legion together than I could alone. Not that you've exactly kept that promise, but Nelson and Nipton were good fights. Hell of a thing to pull off with our numbers. I couldn't have done that without you."

She stayed quiet.

"Why did you take me with you?" He pressed.

"Loads of reasons?" she moved into the shade of one of the shacks, leaning against the cool metal and crossed her arms irritably. "You going alone, I couldn't just send you off to die like that."

"It's what I want," Boone reminded her. "It's going to happen anyway. It's just a matter of time."

"Your faith in me is touching."

"That's not what I meant and you know it," he snapped and she sighed.

"I know. I _know_, just- I'm tired and getting cranky and every time you mention your inevitable demise it pisses me off because you never explain it. I'm sorry." No point in telling him that she planned on keeping him alive as long as possible. He couldn't _really _get mad at her for that, could he?

"You didn't really answer the question."

"Which question?"

"Why you took me with you. If you wanted to avoid Legion, why me?"

Why was this an issue? It wasn't like she said 'no' when Legion suddenly presented themselves. She'd fought them, hadn't she? She helped him kill Legion like she said she would. So why was he pressing this?

"Riley."

"I wanted-" she exhaled sharply through her nose and looked away. This sort of heart-to-heart reminded her far too much of her sessions with Doctor Usunagi. She preferred keeping things like this to herself.

"It doesn't matter." She pushed herself off away from the wall and turned to leave when Boone clamped a hand around her arm. She tried jerking her arm away but his grip was like a vice. She glared at him.

"It matters to me. Why am I following you if you can't trust me?"

She scoffed. "That goes two ways, buddy."

"Why-"

"Because!" she hissed. "Because you were the first person I met that made me feel like I was on solid, familiar ground again. You were something I knew. Something — some_one_ — I could trust because you and I came from the same place." She yanked on her arm again and he released her. "I knew, okay? I knew what you wanted might bring me closer to Legion, but it was worth it if I could find that piece of myself I lost in Cottonwood. I'm just tired of running."

He said nothing. Typical. Be a persistent ass about something and when he finally gets the answer he wanted he stands there like a statue. Not only was that irritating but it was also humiliating as well, to bare some small piece of your soul like that to another human and not have them respond. At least Doctor Usunagi would say something redundant like 'And how does that make you feel?'.

"I'm going to bed," she muttered, eyes fixed on the ground in front of her. "Later."

He didn't stop her this time when she turned away.


	20. Cause sometimes

**Author's Note:**_ ...I had things to say, but I forgot what they were because I am up wayyyyy past my bedtime. Things that happen when I'm sleep deprived are a) my writing gets **really** weird and b) I get incredibly verbose for no apparent reason other than I like the sound that typing makes and the scrawl of words across the screen. That is not to say that this chapter is verbose. But it is weird. Also I love you all and I am so close to 100 reviews omg. I will do a god damn dance if I hit it. Thank you for reading/following/reviewing/favouriting!_

* * *

They slept the entire day. Or at least Riley did, anyway, she couldn't speak for the others. Her fatigue from the day—that, honestly, didn't seem like it would ever end—simply washed over her the moment she hit the bunk. When she awoke the next morning, she lay there silently, staring at the ceiling above her while soldiers stumbled in and out of bunks around her.

Had she really attacked and liberated a Legion controlled town? It all seemed rather surreal in hindsight. Nipton had been different, in a way. There was no liberating, no saving anyone. They'd stumbled across it already in ashes and her sole reason for going anywhere near it was so that Boone wouldn't have to attack it alone. With Nelson, not only did they liberate the town, placing it back into the hands of the NCR, but they saved men. Saved them, as in… they were alive because of them.

The feeling that knowledge gave her was beyond incredible, but also beyond sobering when she thought of the alternate: Cass had nearly died. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, but she should have planned that out better. She _would _plan it out better. Well, any future assaults like that, anyway. Money could not be a hindrance, she reminded herself, and despite whatever bitching she might have done about price of the Cateye, it had been worth it.

She got up and ready, shuffling along behind other soldiers in a routine she still remembered before stepping outside. Boone was, unsurprisingly, already awake when she stumbled out, blinking bleary-eyed in the early dawn light. She paused when she saw him, unsure if he wanted to talk to her or not after her outburst from the day before. She was pretty damn sure that Boone wasn't a _share-your-feelings _type of guy and she felt a little bad about unloading onto him. Not that he hadn't proven to be a fantastic listener, but it still felt pretty shitty to get so little out of him in return.

He watched her approach in a bland sort of way, arms folded and head back. Her hesitation must have been evident on her face because for once, he greeted her first.

"Morning."

She blinked, then smiled slightly as her tension vanished. "Morning yourself."

"Cass was looking for you."

"Is she—"

"She's fine. Still with the doctor. He kept her overnight for observation. Precautionary."

She nodded and turned, glancing at him to see if he was coming with her. When he merely jerked his head to the side, she left him, pulling out a bottle of water and drinking as she made her way over to the medical tent. By the time she got there, she was fairly awake, and so was Cass.

"Thank fuck you're here," she said by way of greeting, pushing herself off the gurney the moment Riley pushed open the tent flap. Riley could see her arm was wrapped in fresh gauze, though Alex was nowhere in sight. "I'm sick of the smell in this place, and your friend won't let me out unless I'm with you."

Riley frowned. "I don't see him around. What's keeping you here?"

Cass grabbed her jacket from the IV hook it was hanging from, talking as she shoved her arms through the sleeves. "Didn't see the posted guard outside?"

"Uh… no?"

"Oh. Well maybe I could have made my escape an hour ago," Cass shrugged, placing her hat back on her head. The action brought the sleeve that the dog had torn through into view and she made a face. "Son of a bitch, I liked this jacket." Her irritation flashed momentarily before she shook her head. "Come on. Let's get the hell out of here before the smell gets in my hair."

"Hold on," Riley held out an arm, stopping Cass in her tracks before she could get by her. "I wanted to-"

"Whatever it is will need to wait," Cass declared, pushing past her. "When a girl's gotta go, a girl's gotta go."

Later, as Cass left the latrine looking far more relaxed, Riley tried again.

"Armour," she said, and Cass raised her eyebrows.

"Come again?"

"Leather armour, at the very least," Riley decided, nodding absently. "I'm thinking I'll buy some for everyone once we get back to the Strip. Make a stop at the Gun-Runners somewhere, I dunno."

Cass blinked. "Okay," she said slowly. "What brought this on? Not that I won't say no to free gifts, and hell, a girl could always do with more leather, but this seems a little sudden."

"Not sudden enough. I should have thought about it yesterday. Maybe if I did, you wouldn't have a torn up arm and I wouldn't be feeling so shitty. Christ, Veronica went out there yesterday in nothing but her little potato sack! I went and spent all that money on Cateye and didn't even _think _about armour. What the fuck was I thinking? I shouldn't have let you-"

"_Let me?" _Cass cut her off, indignant. "Now just hold on. Let's get one thing straight here: you're not my mother. I know how to handle myself in a fight."

Riley sighed. "Yeah, but this was different. This is war, Cass, and you're a civilian-"

"So are you, dumbshit." Cass scoffed, her tone indicated she was severely offended. "Just because you were military once doesn't give you sway over my decisions. Christ, if I didn't want to go, I wouldn't have gone."

"I should have-"

"If you didn't want my help you should have damn well said so."

Now it was Riley's turn to look offended. "That's not what I meant. I'm just saying we could have gone in yesterday more prepared and I messed up and-"

"Are you gonna be on this pity train all day?" Cass demanded, folding her arms. "Because if you are I'm gonna tell you right now you're just gonna waste breath pissing me off."

"Why are you getting so angry?" Riley exclaimed, bewildered. "I'm just saying-"

"No, you're not," Cass snapped. "What you're doing is feeling sorry for yourself and for no god damn good reason either. _We _missed that patrol. That was our fuck up. Not yours. You don't get that blame. I fucked up, I paid for it, end of story. Hell, if you hadn't yelled out I probably wouldn't even be standing here listening to this shit." She threw up her hands. "So yeah, you know what? Fuck you for saving my ass, because now I have to put up with you, and this, _and _a ruined jacket."

Riley fell quiet, and the two women stood there, staring each other down. Cass' eyes narrowed, daring her say something else to set her off again, while Riley pursed her lips, annoyed and yet somehow still amused.

"Okay," she said after a while, folding her arms across her chest. "Guess my pity party's over."

"You're damn right it is."

"I'm still buying you that armour."

"I never said you shouldn't."

"And you're kind of a bitch."

Now Cass grinned. "The best kind. Now, we good? Or do we need to kiss and make up? Give these boys a little something to fight for?" Riley hadn't noticed until now, but they'd attracted a bit of attention from the local soldiers going about their morning routines. They kept their distance, maybe out of fear of Cass than anything else, and Riley was surprised to see Boone was among them. His expression was more disapproving than intrigued, however. Probably disappointed she was having yet another fight, she figured.

"Aha. No. We're good, but let's not give the boys a show. Gotta give them a reason to want to visit the Gomorrah."

Boone chose that time to walk up, still frowning as they turned to greet him.

"You two done?"

They glanced at each other. "Yep," said Riley.

"Pretty much," added Cass.

"Command here wants to speak to us," he said, eyes on Riley, and she nodded. It was only to be expected, of course. They probably wanted a full report, extend formal thanks, etcetera etcetera.

"Yeah, okay." She looked around. "Where's Veronica?"

"Last I saw she was in the mess hall," Boone replied. "Chatting with a few soldiers. Something about a broken transceiver they found."

"I'll go check on her," Cass offered. "You two go deal with the brass, let me know how it goes."

"Okay," Riley nodded. "Catch you later, then."

As Cass walked off, Boone moved closer, arms folded.

"Another fight?"

"I swear to god I didn't start this one," she held up her hands. "Come on. Let's go give them our report."

Major Polatli was still in command, to Riley's surprise. She'd figured by now he might have been either promoted or re-assigned. She'd been stationed at Forlorn Hope for a whole week when she first joined First Recon, and she remembered the Major with his enigmatic moustache and determined attitude, though she doubted he remembered her. She'd maybe spoken four words to him when she was here. Now, the moustache remained, but the determination had wilted into a weary frustration, but he smiled all the same as they entered the tent, and stepped around the table covered in maps to shake their hands.

"I got the initial report in yesterday. Damn proud to have you on our side, soldiers, damn proud. And I can't thank you enough for what you did for us at Nelson. Saving those boys was mighty fine work. I'm sure their families are just as grateful as we are."

See? Formal thanks. Riley smiled as she shook his hand.

"I'd ask your names but Ranger Milo radioed in everything to me yesterday," the Major went on. He glanced between them, smiling with a politely confused look. "He also mentioned there were four of you and that one of you was injured. Don't tell me he was seeing double."

"Ah," Riley laughed. "Cass and Veronica are in the Mess Hall. Cass—the one who got injured—is on the mend, thanks to Alex. They're not military though, wasn't sure you'd want them in the command centre."

"NCR citizens though, I assume, to be willing to fight at your side for our cause. I'd like to thank them personally, if they have the time to come down."

Her smile froze on her face as she thought of Veronica. Sometimes, Riley wondered how it was that she could do so well at poker when she couldn't lie for shit in every day situations. What would Polatli say if he knew they were travelling around with a Brotherhood Scribe? That they had brought her into their _camp? _Brotherhood weren't too far below the Enclave when it came to the NCR's shit list, and right now Riley's thoughts were racing as she thought of the repercussions.

"We'll let them know," Boone replied. She glanced up at him, her expression tense, but he didn't look at her, keeping his gaze on the Major. "Is there anything else we can do to help before we head out?"

"As a matter of fact," the Major's mood seemed to brighten at the prospect of added help, either not noticing or dismissing Riley's odd reaction. "There is something you can do. We don't have the benefit of First Recon at this outpost right now, and I need men who can leave the camp without fear of falling victim to a Legion raiding party. You've proven you can handle yourself, and the reports I got back on your files confirm you're both ex-First Recon, so if you could help us out with something small, it would be much appreciated, and help us get back on our feet so we can secure this side of the river."

Riley's eyebrows shot up. "Something small?"

"I'll direct you to Quartermaster Mayes for details, and you can decide whether or not you can help us. For now though, I'd like to hear your report on the attack on Nelson."

She let Boone give the report, only speaking up when she felt it was appropriate, and then they met with Mayes in the next tent over. The request seemed simple enough, but Riley knew just how fast a simple job could get complicated. She accepted it anyways, and then decided it was long past time for breakfast.

They found Veronica and Cass in the Mess Hall. Veronica had a screwdriver out and the parts of a hand-held transceiver laid out in front of her. Cass watched idly while she nursed a bottle of water.

"What's this?" Riley sat across from Veronica. "New project?"

"One of the soldiers said they found it south of here," Veronica explained. "They _think _it's one of theirs, but I'm not so sure."

"South of here is a mine field," Boone frowned. "None of our guys should be even down there."

"That's what they said," Veronica shrugged as she pried the casing off the antenna. "Anyway, I overheard them talking about it and offered to fix it for them for something to do. Didn't know how long you'd be asleep."

"What do you mean you're not sure if it's one of ours?" Riley asked while she dug through her bag for food.

"Oh, well. Fixing this _sounded _easy enough. I mean, this is pretty basic stuff right here," Veronica grinned. She picked up something that looked like a circuit board and squinted at it, holding it under the light. "But some of this circuitry is… hinky. Doesn't look like regulation, if you know what I mean."

"Hinky?" Riley cocked a brow, setting out several cans of Pork and Beans for them.

"Hinky. It's a word. Anyway, I can't say if it's NCR or not. I can't fix this with just basic tools. It's not as simple as a screw loose, you know? Some of the soldering looks damaged."

"Doubt you'll find tools for that here," said Cass. She reached across the table and grabbed one of the cans Riley laid out. She rolled it idly between her palms, looking at Riley and Boone speculatively. "So? What'd the brass want?"

"He wants you two to go up so he can thank you for helping with Nelson."

"'Thank-you' from an NCR commanding officer," came Veronica's amused voice. "Not sure what the Elder would think about that if he heard about it."

Riley frowned. "Would you get in trouble for helping us?"

"Not sure," the Scribe mused, casting her eyes up thoughtfully. "Not exactly dying to run and find out either."

"Speaking of running," Riley said, cracking open one of the cans and handing it to Boone. She licked the sauce off her finger while he brought out a fork and dug in. "We have to make a run to Helios One to check on some missing supplies and—"

Veronica perked instantly. "Helios One? Really?"

Riley blinked at her. "Uh. Yeah."

"Can I come?"

Riley tapped her fingers on the table, eyeing the girl across from her. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that the NCR ran the Brotherhood out of there a few years back, would it?"

"Oh come on, I wasn't even there for that. Well, not all of it. Come on, I just wanna see it," Veronica pouted. "Anyways, there's that scrap yard nearby. I might be able to find a soldering kit there. And!" she went on, hushing her voice. "I don't really feel comfortable being left behind in an NCR camp."

Now that was a good point. Riley glanced at Boone and he shrugged without looking up from his food. "Don't see the harm in it," he said. "Doubt we'll be going inside anyway."

"Just going there and back?" Cass asked.

"Pretty much," Riley nodded. "Depending on where those supplies are. They probably ran into a legion raiding party, so we'll just be recovering what we can, if we can."

"Well count me out," Cass sighed. "After yesterday, playing hide and seek in the desert doesn't exactly sound fun. I'll stay here and wait for you guys. We _are _going back to Vegas soon though, right?" She looked at Riley. "Didn't you have that thing for the King you needed to do?"

"Shit," Riley blew out a breath and sat back in her seat. She pressed a hand to her face as she laid out a vague mental itinerary. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. First thing when we get back, that gets done. And then I want to head to McCarran and check for any bounties. They always paid well from what I remember."

"First Recon's at McCarran, last I heard," Boone put in. "If there's bounties out that they can't kill, pay would be higher than average."

"I didn't see them there when McLafferty sent me on a delivery," Riley frowned. "Then again I didn't even go near the tents. Which team?"

"Alpha."

"Huh. Wonder where Bravo's at."

Boone shrugged. "Might try asking them when we get there. I know a team was sent across the river a few months ago from what Andy told me, but he never did say which one."

Riley paused in opening her own can of beans. She turned her head to look at him disbelievingly.

"Across… the Colorado? That's suicide."

He flicked his gaze up at her over the rim of his shades. "Lot of desert. Plenty of places to hide."

Plenty of places to die, too, Riley thought. There was a reason some traders preferred to work in the east; Legion patrols were strong, frequent, and thorough, and they kept the roads safe from threats. Where could a team of snipers hide in a land crawling in red?

Images of Jessie being slaughtered by legion, or Tyler up on a cross, swam in front of her. The thought of Romero in slavery, or Russo being forced to fight in the arena made her ill. Then again, they could have died at any time in the last year and she wouldn't have known about it because she'd intentionally cut contact with them. At the time, the decision seemed smart.

Now? Now it just seemed stupid and cowardly.


	21. Even the strongest soldier falls

**Author's Note:** _I just wanted to say that I love you all for getting me past the 100-review milestone. Many happy dances were had. :) I spent a lot of time thinking about where I wanted the next few chapters to go, and it took some time, so for that I apologize. But I do have a plan! And as a bit of a warning, there might be some POV shifts that I don't normally make in the coming chapters as well. I mean, I normally stick to Riley's POV, and occasionally, like for parts of this chapter, Boone's. But for what I have planned, I might have to switch to Veronica, so I don't want anyone surprised when/if that actually happens. Also if I planned this story out better I'd have stuck to only one POV from the beginning but hahaha that would be logical. :I_

_Thank you for reading!_

_Edit: Oh! Also, I have never played the Uncharted games. So to the reviewer who asked, no, sorry. :( Though I am curious as to what I unintentionally referenced..._

* * *

Riley stared up at Helios One. The old building was amazingly intact. Over two hundred years old and it survived the bombs, time, plus a 'conflict of interests' between the NCR and the Brotherhood. She'd never been inside, and besides passing by on her way to other places, she paid little to no attention to the aging power plant. Which was a common thing, she supposed. Legion left it alone, raiders ignored it. Aside from the NCR's squabble with the Brotherhood over it, it had been relatively ignored.

Which made sense, since it was technically—and tactically—worthless from what she'd heard. She wondered how that made Veronica feel, knowing that the NCR came in and eradicated part of her family only to let the plant remain completely nonfunctional and useless. It was probably a good thing she didn't come with them, Riley figured. In an effort to save time, they left the Scribe with Old Lady Gibson and a promise to pick her up once they were done getting intel.

They didn't go in. There was no point; Boone was talking to the woman in charge, a frustrated looking woman by the name of Haggerty. She hadn't given a first name, but from the look of her, Riley was guessing at Janice. Maybe Laura.

"Yeah, they were here," Maybe-Laura nodded. "Squad of four came in the day before last. We had a miscommunication about what was needed, so they stayed the night while we fixed the order. They left yesterday morning."

That was _not _what Riley wanted to hear, and Lieutenant Haggerty knew it. She gave a grim shake of her head at Riley's expression. Being the bearer of bad news was, unfortunately, a really shitty downside of her job.

"I'm sorry. If they didn't reach the Camp, I can only assume Legion got them. Activity's been up in this area since yesterday. We keep getting reports in from Ranger Station Charlie and the patrols are coming across a lot of enemy contact."

"We took back Nelson the night before last," Riley sighed. "Activity should go down-"

"No, it makes sense," Boone cut in and she blinked at him. "Nelson wasn't heavily defended. Meant there were raiding parties roaming around this region when we hit it. Without the camp to go back to, they're left without supplies and shelter. They'll start picking at the settlements in this area until they can get reinforcements or fall back to someplace like Cottonwood."

She exhaled sharply through her nose. "Shit." If it wasn't one thing, it was always another. Problems just seemed to pile up whichever way she turned, and this was no different. There was, however, nothing she could do about it except focus on their current objective.

"Okay. Just… okay. We'll try and track them—"

"Not necessary," Lieutenant Haggerty shook her head. "There's a tracking device on the supply crate. You can lock onto it with your Pip-Boy."

"Oh," Riley blinked. "Guess that makes it easier. Um. Thanks."

"Yep," the lieutenant shrugged. "Be careful out there."

They left, heading back up the road and south towards the scrap yard.

"You think they'd hit Novac?" she asked, as they walked. She flipped through menus on her Pip-Boy, staring at the map and little blinking blip that showed where they needed to go. Beside her, Boone worked his jaw irritably.

"Manny has it covered."

"Yeah," she agreed, because it was true. Asshole or not, you could trust an ex-First Recon to keep his watch. "But at night—"

"We can't be everywhere at once," he sighed wearily, and she grimaced. He was right, she knew that. But that didn't make it any less easier to deal with. "Focus on what we _can _do," he added. "Worry about the rest later."

"Yeah," she sighed. "Okay."

Old Lady Gibson greeted them with a smile when they arrived.

"Back so soon?" She said. "That was certainly a quick trip."

"Got what we needed," Riley nodded, smiling. "No difficulties. Is Veronica done? Or should we wait around a while?"

The old woman's smile suddenly looked very forced. "Well," she hedged. "She was done rather quickly, too, actually."

The way she said that had something uncomfortable pitting itself in Riley's stomach. "What do you mean?"

"Well, she left a while ago. In a hurry, too. Seemed rather frantic, now that I think about it."

"Wh-_"_ Riley stopped, thinking maybe this was a joke. "Wait. You mean she's _gone?" _She didn't understand. Veronica left? Was she done with them? Had her fill and decided to move on? Surely she would have said something if that were the case.

"She said she'd be right back," Old Lady Gibson said. "Just had to check on something."

"Novac?" Boone suggested. "Did she go that way?" Veronica did have a soft spot for Cliff, Riley thought. Maybe she swung by to say 'hi'? Thinking that Riley and Boone would take longer? That was plausible, right?

Except Old Lady Gibson was shaking her head.

"She went west, so no, I don't think she went to Novac."

West? What the fuck was there to the west? Nothing but mountains. And, Riley realised, maybe Legion raiding parties.

Before she could erupt into full blown panic mode, however, Veronica chose that time to walk around the corner.

"What the _hell?_" Riley exclaimed, storming up to her. Veronica froze, hands lifted in a placating gesture with a wide-eyed expression.

"It's not what you think. Those bodies were there when I got there."

"This isn't _funny, _Ron." Riley growled, hitting Veronica irritably on the shoulder. "Why didn't you just wait for us?"

The other girl sighed, dropping her hands. "It's… complicated."

"Try me," Riley snarled. Veronica stared at her a moment, as if weighing something in her mind, before her face turned carefully blank.

"I can't. I'm sorry."

"Veronica—" Riley sighed and pressed her hands to her face. She took a deep breath, and then faced her again. "You can trust me."

"And _you _can trust _me," _Veronica replied pleadingly. "Look, it's not anything bad, I swear. It's just something personal I had to check on. I can't say any more than that."

Now Riley frowned. Personal?

"Does this have something to do with that transceiver?" She asked, incredulously. "You fixed it and then you ran off and—"

"Oh. Yeah, hey about that. It's not NCR." Veronica smiled. "So, you know, you don't have to worry about it." Which was a roundabout way of saying 'stop asking questions', Riley realised, eyes narrowing. Before she could say anything, Boone came up behind her.

"Riley," he said, his voice low. "Just leave it alone. We need to get going if we're going to find those supplies."

Right. The supplies. The mission.

"Fine," she said, backing off. The heat, momentarily forgotten, settled back onto her shoulders as she faced the road, and away from Veronica. "Let's get going."

* * *

Boone methodically sniped the last legion soldier standing over Riley, lowering his rifle only when the body hit the ground in a crumpled heap. The ambush had been typical legion tactics, Boone thought as he made his way over to his partner. Something they should have expected. Too late to worry about it now, but still. Sloppy.

He held out a hand and pulled Riley to her feet, then busied himself with checking her over while she dusted herself off.

"Is that all of them?" she coughed. Her beret had fallen off in the attack, he noticed. Her hair falling out of its pins in a harried disarray around her face. Dirt smudged her nose. Blood slid down her arm and her eyes were tearing up, though he suspected she'd just gotten sand in her eyes and not that she was suddenly overcome with emotion.

"Pretty much." He kicked the corpse at their feet for good measure and she gave him a wide smile. He gestured at the blood on her arm. "That yours?"

"Huh?" she glanced down, brow furrowed as she swiped a thumb through the crimson streak currently trickling it's way to her wrist. The action must have done something, because she winced instantly and Boone frowned.

"Spear must have got me. Didn't notice. Just stim and wrap it and let's go," she sighed. "Wasted enough time."

He nodded and dropped his duffel, rummaging through it to dig out the stims. She sat as he worked, wincing only slightly when he poured the whiskey over the wound followed by water. Veronica hovered quietly behind them, picking through the remains of the fallen crates strewn about on the ground.

"Anything?" Riley called back as he wrapped her arm. Her voice had an edge to it that Boone didn't like, and Veronica hesitated before answering.

"There's a little left. Ammo and chems, mostly. No food or water."

Figured. He tied off the bandage, probably a little rougher than was necessary, though Riley didn't complain. He helped her to her feet and then they moved over to where Veronica was squatting in the dirt. A single crate stood intact and open before her. Boone could see stims, med-x, and boxes of various ammo tossed in haphazardly.

Deciding it was probably best that the two girls have time apart, Boone flipped the lid shut and gestured for Veronica to grab one end. She did so quietly, and they started their walk back the same way. Nobody talked. The air was tense and even for Boone, who rarely felt the need to fill silence, the quiet was grating because it meant something was wrong.

Cass was waiting for them when they got back. She was chatting with the soldier at the gate, sitting close and smiling suggestively. Distracting him was more like it, Boone scowled, noticing the way the younger man eagerly lapped up Cass' attentions. Where were the MP's?

"You made it," Cass grinned as they approached. They set down the crate and a few soldiers appeared out of nowhere to collect it. Her smile fell as Riley stalked past them, ignoring her and them as she made a beeline for the supply tent. Cass wandered closer, voice low and eyebrows high. "What's stuck up her ass now?"

"Ask her," Boone jerked his head towards Veronica and he could hear her sigh. Cass looked between them, wide-eyed.

"What the— what happened?"

"Ask her," Boone repeated, and walked away, leaving Veronica with Cass. Truth was, while he could understand Veronica's refusal to talk, and he could see Riley's hurt at not being trusted, he wanted nothing to do with this new squabble. That didn't mean he wouldn't talk to Riley about it, though. He found her giving Mayes the last of her report and waited outside the tent for her to finish.

"You're not going to talk to her?" He asked when she walked out. She sighed and gestured for him to walk.

"I will," she said after a while. "I'm not mad at her. Not really. I was just worried and now she's pulling this shit where she won't even talk to me about it and…" she sighed again. "I dunno."

"Maybe you should tell her that."

"What?"

"That you were worried."

She kicked at a rock. If Boone had to guess, he'd almost say she was sulking. "I guess. She's really kind of the first friend I've had in a long time. I just don't know what I'd do… if… she—" she stopped walking and Boone stopped beside her, frowning.

"What is it?"

"Is that… what I think it is?" Riley asked. Boone turned to see what she was looking at and felt his confusion wash away. The cloud in the distance was massive, spanning the entire horizon and reaching far into the sky. The darkness of it threatened to blot out the sun and, Boone noticed, it was approaching quickly. There was only one thing it _could _be.

Riley turned back to look at Boone, eyes wide. "Is that—"

"Get everyone inside," he said. She didn't hesitate. She bolted for the command tent and Boone grabbed the nearest soldier, giving him the same warning. The usually languid camp burst into sudden motion as more and more soldiers saw the approaching sand storm. Boone rushed back to find the other girls, but they weren't at the entrance where they left them. He cursed, looking around. He didn't have time to waste though, and chose a direction and ran with it. He checked inside shacks, in tents, but in the end he found Cass at the south entrance, looking panicked.

"Hey," he jogged up to her. The wind was starting to really pick up now. Cass had to hold onto her hat to keep it from flying. "You need to get inside."

"But—"

"It's just a sandstorm, it'll pass. Just have to ride it out."

"I know what a sandstorm is," she snapped, frustrated. "The problem is Veronica."

They didn't have time for this. "What do you mean?"

"I mean she left!" Cass exclaimed, and Boone's jaw tightened. "She—"

"Hey!" Riley joined them. "Everyone's locking up. We should get inside too." She frowned, glancing between them. "Where's Ron?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you!" Cass rolled her eyes. "She left. Said some nonsense about getting answers and then she just up and left! I tried arguing with her but she wouldn't fucking listen."

Boone checked the storm as sand whipped at his face. It was close now, it would be on them in minutes. They needed to get inside.

"Which way did she go?" Riley asked.

"South. She—"

Riley shoved past them but Boone reached out, gripping both of her arms, holding her back.

"Let go!" Riley struggled against his hold. "That's a god damn mine field. We have to—"

"Get inside!" Boone ordered. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the wind. "We won't be able to find her now."

"We can't leave her!" Panic was starting to creep into Riley's voice. Her struggles became frantic and Boone strained just to keep his grip on her. "She's out there. We just have to get her back. We can't just—"

"We can go look for her after," he grunted as she wrenched an arm free and tried punching him. It was weak, just a glancing blow, but he used the anger it brought to help haul her back towards the shacks. The last few soldiers were retreating indoors and Boone knew their time was almost up.

"She might not have an 'after'!" Riley snarled. "Let me go!"

"We won't have one either if we go after her."

"What do you care?" she spat. "It's what you want anyway."

He froze momentarily. It was a low blow, and not one he expected to come from her. His frown deepened, but he didn't say anything. She could say whatever she wanted about him, but if he let her go out there now it would just be more blood on his hands.

Boone jerked his head at Cass and the redhead disappeared into the mess hall. Riley was still struggling, and in a last ditch effort to get her under control, Boone pressed his hand over her wound and pressed _hard_. She cried out, falling to one knee and he wasted no time in using the advantage to flip her over his shoulder. She didn't seem pleased about it but at this point that was the least of his concerns.

"Put me down!" Riley screeched into his backside. Her legs kicked furiously and he knew he had to move quickly before she actually got a hit in. Her punches might be weak, but he'd seen the muscles in her legs when they had to strip off her armour after the car explosion. He banged on the door to the mess hall, stepping in quickly once it was opened.

He flipped Riley back onto her feet and she wasted no time in launching herself at the door. Boone lowered himself, ready to take a tackle if he had to. He didn't. Two soldiers moved to hold her back and she gave a frustrated cry as she was thwarted once again.

Behind him, he could hear Cass turn the latch on the door. It wouldn't hold anyone in, but the effect it had on Riley was instantaneous. She slumped against the holds on her arms, panting heavily. She'd given up. Boone gestured for them to release her and she stumbled forward. He caught her before she fell, steadied her, then waited for her to push him away. She didn't, just clung to him as the storm raged outside.


	22. When you are ready, I will surrender

**Author's Note: **_I'm semi-on-time! Sort of. Still getting used to my new schedule with the new job. It's a work in progress. But anyways, here we go! :3 Thank you all so much for reading and the reviews and the like. As always, you guys rock and make my day. And as a side note, this chapter is all Veronica. We'll get back to Riley and company in the next one!_

* * *

Riley was going to _kill her._

It was the single thought that reverberated with each step Veronica took away from Forlorn Hope. It was stupid. A stupid thing to do to her friend after she already scared her earlier that day and she _knew it. _So why was she doing this again?

She should have turned back. Hell, she almost did. Twice she'd turned on her heel. Twice she marched back, sure and steady feet guiding her back along the careful path she'd picked out amongst the dangerous blinking lights, half-buried in the sand. And twice she changed her mind. It was only when she was close enough to see the old bunker that she realised if she was hesitating this much, she was doing the wrong thing. If she was going to get answers, answers on _this_, she wanted someone there with her. She wanted Riley.

And then she saw the storm.

It took maybe three seconds to gauge the distance, calculate her running speed, work in the possibility of setting off a mine before she came to the conclusion that reaching the Camp before the storm hit just wasn't in her cards. So it was necessity that spurred her forward, and not back. Necessity that had her sliding down the steep slope, and necessity that had her heaving on old, rusted hinges, hauling the grate open and revealing the darkened bunker below. She descended quickly, jumping the last few feet and landing deftly on dust-covered cement.

For a moment she just stood there, staring up at the closed grate above her as if it would offer her some answers. Because seriously, now what? Yeah, she wanted to come here, but she had belatedly decided she wanted company when she did. Now _that _was all ruined and now Riley was _really _going to kill her because for all she knew, Veronica had run straight into a mine field and then got lost in a surprise sandstorm and then tragically blew herself up.

She pressed a hand to her face, shaking her head at her shortsighted stupidity. It might not be _ideal, _the conditions and stupidity that brought her here, but now that she _was _here—and stuck—she might as well do what she could to get the answers she came for. She turned around. It was dank and dark, typical of old world vaults and sewers. A few dingy lights hanging on the metal-plated walls gave her vision, but it was the smell that struck her first. Not the musty smell of dirt and dust, but the rank stench of a rotting corpse.

Considering why she was even came here in the first place, it was cause enough for her heart to start pounding.

Using her sleeve, she covered her mouth and nose as she moved forward. The body was sprawled out on the other side of the room, sans head, and already well into the later stages of decomposition that it had to have been there for months.

And it wasn't Elijah.

She released the breath she was holding, eyes raking over the body one more time just to be sure. The build wasn't right, and even through the rotting flesh she could see the lines of a dark tattoo crawling up one arm. Elijah had never sat well with such things. Foolishness, he called them. She allowed her heart rate to slow back to a steady beat.

She backed away, heading instead down the stairs that led to the lower level. It had been years since she'd been here, years since this place was even used by the Brotherhood since the establishment of Camp Forlorn Hope made the place obsolete as a safehouse, but a radio was playing down the far end of the hallway, echoing faintly, and she was damn near positive that thing had been broken and in about eight- or nineteen pieces since she took it apart on a whim and lost a few components. So someone had obviously been here. Long enough to make her headless friend upstairs and fix the radio here, at any rate.

She caught the words as she drew closer, recognising the broadcast for the Sierra Madre. An old legend. Riley had even embellished it into a great ghost story, told over a campfire the night they stayed at Lake Mead. A city full of treasure, of gold, and of ghosts.

It was a great story. But right now it was just noise in a dead bunker, and she moved to turn it off. Once she did that, she could check the living quarters and—

She froze, a foot away from the radio, hand outstretched, eyes wide as the clack of a triggered trap resonated close-by. Nothing happened for a second, then two, before a gentle hissing spurred her into motion. Turning on her heel, she bolted back down the hall— or she tried to. She didn't get far before her vision blurred and the hallway spun. Lethargy claimed her limbs like a New Vegas debt, and she crumpled to the floor, her vision slowly fading until all she saw was blackness.

* * *

She wasn't sure how long she was out. When she finally jerked awake, the first thing she noticed was that her head ached like a motherfucker. She rolled over, coughing violently onto cold pavement. The air was thick with the tang of copper and as her head cleared, remembering the sandstorm and the bunker and the radio, a very precise feeling of 'oh shit' started to make its way to the front of her mind.

Where _was _she?

She sat up, taking her first look around, and her first impression was that everything was very decidedly _pink_. Which, hey, she wasn't judging, but there were other, more stylistically pleasing colours to choose from when decorating your post-apocalyptic ghost town.

And it _was _a ghost town, no doubt about that. Not even wind seemed to visit this place. The pinkness hung over the buildings like a drab veil, but if she strained really hard, she could make out stars through the cloud above her. It wasn't much, but it gave her a vague time-line to go off of.

A flickering movement caught her eye and she whipped her head around, focusing for the first time on the dried up fountain laid out before her, and the hologram adorning the centre of it. A woman cocked her hip, tilted her head prettily. It was all very noir and come-hither, so Veronica pushed herself to her feet so she could get to the hithering. Plus, the dress the holographic lady was wearing looked absolutely _amazing. _She took a step forward.

"Who's there?"

Veronica jumped, head turning this way and that to find the source of the voice.

"Must not be awake yet," the voice grumbled. "Have to look into a better method of getting them here once I get out. Some never wake up."

Wh- There was-

Veronica _knew _that voice, and her own trembled slightly as she took another tentative step forward, unwilling to believe her own ears.

"E-Elijah?"

"Eh?" The hologram flickered and died, the woman disappeared and instead Elijah's face popped up above her. She ran closer, heart pounding.

"Elijah! Oh— Oh my god. What— I can't even—"

"Veronica?"

"_Yes." _She beamed at the hologram. Whether or not he could see her, and she was leaning towards 'not', she couldn't contain her joy. She found him. She found him! "Where are you? Why are you using the hologram?"

"Veronica," his voice turned sad, pitying. "It's a shame, a real shame, you had to be brought here like this. I had other plans— contingencies in place. You have to understand."

Her smile fell. What?

"No. No, this can work. It _has_ to work," he said desperately. His voice lowered, mumbling in a way she hadn't heard in years. "But there's not enough. One more. Once the FEV reject returns… might get lucky. Just hope the collars are enough to keep them in line this time. Can't afford any more losses. Already low on supplies."

Her elation at finding him was slowly fading. His erratic mumblings were concerning her.

"Um," she tried. "I found your transceiver."

"Ah!" He sounded pleased. "But that's wonderful, Veronica! But how? The FEV reject was supposed to deliver it to the shack. I had hopes you'd find it there, but he came back, saying he dropped it in a mine field. A _mine field. _I assume those bumbling NCR fools had something to do with that."

She winced. She didn't want to know what he'd say if he found out she'd befriended a few of those bumbling fools. "Well…" she hedged.

"I knew it. I suppose they control the Mojave now. Forcing their laws and their idiocy on everyone they come across. But, you found the transceiver anyway. How? No. Never mind, it's inconsequential. What matters is you found it and got my message. But— I had coordinates programmed into the terminal at the bunker so you could find me. Why did you come here like this?"

"Come here like _what?_" she asked. "Elijah, nothing you're saying makes sense. Where am I? What was the trap for at the bunker? What are you doing here?" She was starting to sound more desperate with each question.

"All in good time, Veronica. All in good time. I'm beginning to understand. You didn't read my message on the terminal. Got caught in the trap before you could. There are more important things to worry about now. The collar around your neck—"

Collar? Her hands flew up, eyes wide as her fingers touched on the metal clasps. What the—

"Do not remove it. Veronica, this is important. I didn't mean for you to have one. You were supposed to come here another way. But we have to make do."

"Is this… Elijah is this a _bomb collar?"_ she asked, outraged.

"Unfortunate. Yes, yes. It was necessary with the others. Couldn't make them cooperate… forced my hand. It was the only way_. _But you must believe me that it wasn't my intention for you to wear it. The FEV reject… eh. Another story. The important thing here is that you _do not remove it._ Do you understand?"

"_No," _she said, her voice hard. She dropped her hands and it was then that she noticed the lack of her power fist. God _damn it._ "I don't understand. Why are you—" she groaned, frustrated. "Nothing makes _sense_. I just found you and—" so many emotions, questions long unanswered, welled up inside her. She didn't know where to start. "You abandoned us. You left the Brotherhood for _dead_ at Helios. I thought _you _were dead. And you're not. You're here and you— I've waited this long for answers, Elijah. You can't just brush me off like this."

He sighed wearily, and she could picture him, easily, pinching the bridge of his nose like he did when he was teaching her something new and she was too impatient to learn the mechanics of it.

"Youth," he said finally. "I'd forgotten how impatient it makes you. But believe me, Veronica, when I say that your answers can wait. I need your help and if you do this for me, you will save the Brotherhood. Together, _we_ will save the Brotherhood. It's all here. The key to everything. And I will answer your questions but first you need to _get me out of here_."

"Out of _where?"_

"I'm trapped. Inside. The Sierra Madre—"

"The _what?" _Her voice rose incredulously. This was too much. "You can't be serious. That's nothing but a ghost story."

"No. No. It's not the myth you think it is. The legend is true, you're in it now. Look around you, Veronica. See it with your own eyes. The Sierra Madre is very real, and I've found it. But the important thing here is what's _in _the Sierra Madre, Veronica. What's here, we can use to save the Brotherhood. Strengthen it. The technology, if we could harness it, study it. _Control _it. All our troubles with the NCR, gone. Just _think_, Veronica. The _possibilities."_

Technology? Here? All she saw that even hinted at technology was the hologram and even that was not exactly ground-breaking. She felt her heart breaking. All this time, and nothing had changed. He was still the same. Driven, single-minded in his goals. If anything he'd just gotten worse. His erratic ramblings made no sense, but if she was going to get answers out of him, she had to find him—the real him—and that meant playing along for now.

"What do you need me to do?"

* * *

Well. He'd gone off his rocker. It was official. Ghosts. Poisonous clouds. He'd even gone paranoid, claiming an assassin was tracking him and might even be in the city already. It was probably worse than she could have imagined. She could have dealt with _dead_, to be honest. She already assumed he was, had already made her peace with it. But this? This madness, this… single-minded obsession with a two hundred year old _casino_, of all things, was just beyond anything she could have cooked up on her own.

But she was going to find him, get him out. Maybe… maybe if she got him help. Or get him back to the California chapter, they could know what to do with him. Elder McNamara certainly wouldn't help him, not after what happened at Helios. His mind was going, that much, at least, was clear.

He said they didn't have enough people yet to open the casino. She wasn't exactly sure what would be so difficult about it. Scale a wall, hop a fence, break a window. Bam. Done. But no, it was apparently a huge complicated process that involved fireworks.

See? Gone off his rocker.

Elijah had a nightkin—'servant' would be the only word she could use here—rounding up additional help. The 'FEV reject' he kept referring to. She assumed that meant checking traps and strapping more bomb collars on people to force their obedience. Elijah had always been one to hate not getting his way, but this? _This_ sent a shiver down her spine. It was cold, controlling, and cruel. And while she could attribute those words individually to Elijah at one time, now, together, they just seemed to compound just how far he'd gone.

Her first order of business was scavenging. Then she had to locate Collar Fourteen and get them to the fountain. Exactly _how _she was supposed to do that was beyond her, but Elijah assured her he would give her directions once he had a read on their bomb collar's signal.

Until then, she roamed the empty streets, poking in and out of buildings and grabbing what she could, tossing it all into a leather suitcase she'd picked off a musty smelling mattress. She felt a little like a tourist, carting the suitcase around like she was just arriving for vacation. All she needed were a few sun dresses and some shades. As luck would have it, she did find a pair of sunglasses in a drawer in one of the rooms she did a sweep of. She tried them on, then, at the realisation that she could see absolutely nothing (and consequently wondered how the hell Boone did it), settled for pushing them back up on her head. At least it was stylish.

The lack of her powerfist was discomforting as she walked from room to room. That familiar weight had been a part of her for years, and she felt off-balance without it. Elijah _had_ given her a weapon—a holorifle he'd made from the technology here, cast almost carelessly in the dried up fountain by the last set of collars—but it wasn't what she was used to and felt foreign in her hands. Still, it was better than nothing.

She was staring up at a road sign, debating on heading to the police station or the clinic next, when she realised she was being followed. It wasn't a menacing feeling, like one felt before an ambush. But it was careful, like she was just being observed from afar. It was possible she was imagining it, alone as she was, but she decided to err on the side of caution and headed briskly down the road, heading for the police station. If she could force them inside to follow her, she could fight better in closed quarters and wouldn't have to rely on her aim.

She didn't get far before she heard it, a groaning that didn't sound… natural, and had her doubting she heard it at all. It echoed strangely, and her pace slowed as she cocked her head, ears straining to pick out where it came from.

A spear landed at her feet. She stared at it blankly, then dove out of the way of the next one. Her suitcase went sprawling, pork and beans and bottles of absinthe spilling out across the brick and garbage. She had only a brief moment of irritation at the inconvenience of it before she saw it, and she wasn't exactly sure what 'it' was. It _looked _like a man. Clad in a hazmat suit with glowing green eyes, the spears strapped to its back was a blatant confession. _Yes_, it said. _I am the one who tried to kill you. _And then it leaped ten feet into the air towards her like something out of a god damn horror holotape, breath rattling sickly.

She staggered back ungracefully, but managed to keep her footing. That sick rattling came again and she dropped into her fighting stance, anticipating another attack. Instead, it swayed a second in place, limbs contorting unnaturally as if they weren't moving of its own volition, before it jumped again.

This time, she was ready. Sidestepping the attack easily enough, she moved behind it, gripped its head between her hands and twisted, forcing the head back around to look at her, snapping its neck.

Or it would have. Normally.

She stared in horror as the thing rattled its breath, those glowing green orbs only inches from her face. Its head wobbled a bit, but in no way did it wobble on the side of 'I just died'. Instead, it twisted its body around to join its head so that it was facing her completely, and she had only a brief sensation of 'oh shit' as it raised another spear.

A sick, squelching noise greeted her next. Not the laboured, rattling breath she expected, and she blinked, realising it wasn't moving… and a spear was rammed through its head. It dropped to the ground, crumpling sickly with limbs bent in odd directions. Her saviour stood over the body, short and petite and clad in all black. She wasn't wearing the horrid jumpsuit Veronica had been forced into, but she was at the very least female. Back to her, she ripped the spear out of the thing's skull and used the blade of it to quickly decapitate it. She didn't want to think too hard on the fact that the suit seemed to deflate a little, and a pink looking… _goo _was now oozing out onto the brick road.

"What—" Veronica took a deep breath. She was reminded of Novac, facing down a charging nightkin and fully expecting to be splattered on the pavement at any moment. Her saviour kept her back to her, and Veronica had a brief moment where she thought it was Riley, come to save her from the pink-clouded-ghost-city-of-legend. And then she turned around.

Veronica stared, picking out the familiar features through the myriad of scars. The blonde hair was gone, but her eyes, they were same. It couldn't be. She felt the blood drain from her face as the girl in front of her watched her warily, spear still in hand, before she found her voice.

"_Christine?"_


	23. Take me and do as you will

**Author's Note: **_Hey! So... I'm not sure if this is obvious yet at this point, but this story is going to be **massively huge. **You know, just a twenty-chapters-or-so-belated-warning for everyone. You might also notice the chapter titles have... actual titles now? See, I decided I might pick a song title for every chapter. And I actually do have a list written out for that but holy crap that got really hard, really fast. And then I decided maybe I'd try making up original chapter titles! But it turns out I suck at that too as apparently I try and jam symbolism into everything when I do that. So instead, I chose two songs and used the lyrics. _

_The first song, for chapters 1-21 is **Wide River to Cross by Diana Krall. **The second song which I started the lyrics for on the last chapter, is **Sing it Back by Moloko. **The original version, not the crappy dance trance remix or whatever. I am huge on using songs for inspiration.  
_

_Anyways! Thank you all for reading, following and reviewing! And a shout-out to my beta, Kay, for listening to my whining and sometimes frantic and disjointed epiphanies as I piece together future plot arcs. :) _

* * *

"You think she's okay?" Riley asked. It was maybe the tenth time in three hours that she asked the question, though neither of her companions seemed to mind. On her left, Boone kept his eyes closed, arms propped up on raised knees while he power napped on and off. To her right, Cass thumbed through a dirty skin mag she won off one of the soldiers in the room in a game of Caravan.

"She's fine," Boone replied.

"She's a smart girl," Cass added. "Plus didn't she say that to get to the bunker of the You-Know-Who you need to walk through a mild sandstorm? I'm sure she knows what to do in one. Probably found a hole to hide in or something."

"In a minefield?"

"Lots of holes in a minefield," Boone said quietly.

It made her laugh. It might have been a pained, bitter laugh, but Cass lifted her head to smile at her regardless. Riley's smile fell quickly, and Cass nudged her gently with her elbow.

"Stop worrying. It's not going to help, and there's nothing we can do right now anyway."

Riley sighed and let her head fall back against the wall. "Yeah. I know."

"You wanna read my skin mag?"

She snorted lightly. "No thanks. Doubt you're doing much reading as it is."

"Fuck you. There's articles."

"Yeah," Riley nodded jerkily. She wanted the conversation to end. "Yeah, okay. Articles. Sure. Not right now though." Cass gave her a strange look, but she shut her eyes then, dismissing Cass and hoping for maybe sleep. She would need rest if she was going to go out and look for Veronica. Would need her mind alert and ready, her eyes sharp so she could pick her way through the minefield.

She never used to be such a wreck with people. She was out of touch with socialising if she was totally honest. The last few weeks since Benny shot her in the head were really like being thrown back into a lion's den of emotion. She was still getting used to it all again. Having connections, responsibilities, expectations.

Trust.

Great. Now she had trust issues. Maybe she should have kept those follow-ups with Dr. Usanagi after all.

"Hey guys, it's stopping!"

She cracked her eye open. One of the soldiers had the door open a smidgen, and Riley could see outside. The air was still musty, hazy. The sand and dust was still settling, but it was safe to go outside. She jumped to her feet and grabbed her bag, her rifle. She was already halfway to the door as the room roused, men and women standing and stretching, longing for a breath of fresh air after being trapped inside for hours.

Her first breath of air was musty, and she found herself coughing and spitting before yanking a handkerchief to her face. She looked around her. Everything was covered in sand. Bits and pieces of metal, part of the roofing on some of the buildings, had been blown off, cast aside and were now resting up against the rock wall surrounding the camp. Garbage, no longer stocked in disgusting piles in between buildings, was now everywhere—and the smell was awful.

Soldiers started filing out behind her, and she found herself moving, walking around the camp, looking around at the destruction and the mess the storm left behind. Tents were toppled. The medical tent was completely caved in, and if she hadn't helped Alex move the patients herself earlier, she would have been worried. The command tent still stood though. Major Polatli was already outside, surveying his camp.

"Riley." Boone came up behind her and she glanced over her shoulder. "We should go."

She nodded. They had it under control here. Wasn't the first or last sandstorm to roll through the desert. People here knew how to handle the clean-up that came with it. But they were losing light and if they were going to find Veronica, they had to leave now.

They joined Cass at the southern exit. Soldiers were already back in their perches, unwilling to let their guard down in case the Legion used the storm's aftermath as an opportunity to attack.

"Good news," she said when they walked up. "Storm blew a lot of the mines farther south. One of the look-outs says the path east is mostly clear." Veronica had walked east. She'd found that out talking to one of the soldiers in the Mess Hall.

Riley adjusted her bag and gave a firm nod. "Let's go."

They picked their way down carefully. The sandstorm had made the path loose and treacherous, and more than once Riley found herself skidding on her heels before a firm hand from Boone righted her again. Once in the valley, she let Boone take point, and followed behind carefully, stopping when he did, as he chose their path. She kept her eyes out for caves, holes, any place that could have been used for shelter. But nothing stood out, and her Pip-Boy wasn't picking up anything useful either.

She knew she should have been also looking for a corpse. But she was trying to stay optimistic. Alive until proven dead.

"Anything?" Cass asked when Boone had stopped them for the umpteenth time. He was scanning the path ahead of them and Riley took the time to lift her Pip-Boy and check the radar again. No life signals. No settleme-

Wait.

"Uh. It's picking up something ahead." She frowned at it. Was it malfunctioning? Any farther and they'd be heading down to the river. Maybe a cave?

"East?" Boone asked without turning around. Riley checked again.

"Yeah."

"Okay." He pressed onward and they followed behind. The ridge they were coming up on looked to be a sheer drop from where they were. And as they stood on top, staring down at the grate below, Riley felt her heartbeat thud with a dangerous surge of hope.

"Is that—"

"Looks like shelter to me," Cass said, grinning. "Told you she was fine."

Boone flicked his gaze at them, but said nothing. The path going down was steep, and he went first, sliding down deftly in a crouch, using his arm for balance behind them. Riley mimicked him and while Cass tried to do the same, she stumbled and tripped the last few feet and Riley had to catch her before she face-planted.

"Thanks," Cass dusted herself off.

"No problem."

Boone was already hunched over, gripping the rusted handle of the grate and heaving until his muscles strained. It lurched open with a metallic groan and they gathered round, staring into the black hole below them.

"Well," Cass said after a while. "After you."

Riley swallowed, but flicked her Pip-Boy light on. She descended a few feet before Boone followed. She could hear Cass cursing a few seconds later.

It wasn't deep. Maybe fifteen, twenty feet. Once her feet hit solid ground, she turned and scanned the room. The rank smell of death greeted her and she saw the source across the room once Boone joined her.

"Not her," Riley shook her head. "Male."

"Where's his head?" Cass gagged behind her, and Riley smiled. A memory of Veronica taking out a Viper at a gas station suddenly surfacing.

"Oh. Around."

"And what the fuck's up with the graffiti down here?" Cass added. "The Sierra Madre? Seriously?"

"You see it everywhere," Riley shrugged. "Come on." She jerked her head and they moved towards the stairs, single file. She called Veronica's name at the bottom and her voice echoed back at her. She waited a beat for a reply but nothing came. The only noise was the distant tin of a radio. Her shoulders sagged a little.

"Keep going," Boone said from behind her. Shaking herself, she pressed onward.

When she found the Brotherhood symbol scrawled on the wall, she stopped again.

"This—"

Boone frowned and she knew they were thinking the same thing. This close to Forlorn Hope was cause for a _little_ concern.

"Veronica!" Riley shouted again, turning in place as if a wall would open and her friend would magically appear. She swallowed hard when again she got no reply. But there was still a door behind her, and a hall to her left. The radio was louder now, and it was starting to grate on her nerves.

"Riley," Cass said. "Look."

She turned, looking where Cass was gesturing to, and her eyes fell on Veronica's hood in the middle of the hallway. She ran to it, snatching it up and holding it close to her face, making sure it was the right type of potato sack.

"It's hers." She turned, eyes wide. "It's her hood. She never takes this damn thing off. Where the hell is she? Veronica!" She yelled again, backing up into the room with the radio, turning this way and that. That fledgling bit of hope she had was slowly dwindling.

"Riley, get back here," Boone called to her. His voice had an edge to it, but she didn't listen, shouting the name again. Boone stepped forward, this time his tone was deadly serious. "Riley!"

She heard it then. The click, the hiss. She turned to see Boone and Cass running at her and she barely had time to register just how confused she was before her legs couldn't support her anymore. She fell to her knees, blearily watching Cass crumple beside her while Boone shouted at them to get up. He gripped her under her arms, she could feel herself being dragged away, but then he fell, just like them, and she passed out to the sound of him gasping her name.

* * *

"Veronica."

Veronica gaped. She shook her head, trying to find her voice again. This wasn't happening. "Chris… what. I don't—"

This was too much. You could only expect to take in so many life-changing revelations in one hour. She took a deep, gulping breath of air. Then another. She turned away and rubbed at her eyes because surely she was hallucinating. But nope. Christine was still standing there when she opened them again.

"I think I need to sit down."

"What did he do to you?" Christine demanded. She moved forward, eyes hard and locked on the collar. "Why do you have the collar on? I thought—" she dropped the spear and shook her head dismissively. "Come here. I can take it off for you."

"You can't," Veronica backed up. "It's rigged."

"It's a bomb collar, Ronnie. It's just a simple matter of—"

"No you don't understand," she took another step backward, away from Christine's grasping fingers. "There's someone else here with a collar. They're linked. One of us dies, the other dies too. If the collar goes offline, it's the same thing."

Christine dropped her hands, folded her arms across her chest instead. She looked at Veronica grimly.

"Well, shit."

She laughed humourlessly, pressing a hand to her face and letting it fall back through her hair. "It hasn't exactly been a vacation. This is so fucked up. I just…" she sighed, gaze lifting to the girl she once knew in front of her. She was different now, older. Harder. The scars didn't highlight how much she'd changed as much as her eyes did, and it tore at her, to know that she hadn't been there for any of it.

"Christine—" she reached out, fingers brushing against the smaller woman's face, eyes searching. Christine swallowed. She looked pained. And then she was turning away, gathering up the discarded spears from the ground as if the moment never happened.

"Come on. There'll be more of them close by. We need to move."

Veronica sighed. "My things—"

"I have supplies. We can come back for them. Come on."

Fifteen minutes later they were holed up in a house. It was one of the few with a working door, intact glass windows. Ironically, Veronica took her first breath of fresh air the moment she stepped inside. Or at least what passed for fresh in this place. The coppery twang, the metallic heaviness to the air outside was suffocating. So this? This was refreshing.

Christine was methodical, shutting the door behind them. She had a bucket of rags hiding behind the door that she used to fill the cracks underneath. The windows were covered, boarded up neatly and still covered with curtains so no light could escape. Even still, Christine turned on only one single dim lamp on the floor, and Veronica moved farther into the room, looking around.

She'd cleaned the place. She didn't know why that amused her. Every house she'd been in so far had been falling apart, beds strewn and dressers toppled. Walls crumbling and books scattered. But everything in this place was where it should be. The bed was made. There was no dust on the counters. A black bag rested on the floor near the couch. Magazines were piled neatly on the coffee table.

"Been here a while?" she found herself asking. Christine lifted her eyes and smiled wryly.

"About a week. Give or take."

"What—" She hugged herself as she stepped closer, hovering near one of the plush chairs. Christine waited patiently. She took a deep breath, then laughed bitterly. "I don't even know where to start. This is so messed up. I keep saying that. Why do I keep saying that."

"You look good," Christine blurted. Veronica smiled and gestured down at the unflattering jumpsuit she was currently wearing. Christine laughed lightly. "Considering," she amended. "I just— it's good to see you again."

"I— you too."

Christ, this was awkward. What did one say to your long lost girlfriend who left you ten years ago? She shifted uncomfortably, looking around the room as if something might present itself to talk about.

"You cut your hair," Christine said sadly. "I liked it longer."

"Yeah, well. You lost your say in what I do when you left," Veronica replied. She'd meant it to sound lighthearted, but it came out sounding bitter.

"Veronica—"

"What?" She demanded. "There's not much you can say that erase the last ten years, you know? You left. You _left. _I begged you to stay and—" she pressed her hands over her eyes and muttered to herself. "This is so stupid. Why is this happening to me?"

"It was the only way."

"No it wasn't. You could have stayed. You could have—"

"Ronnie—"

"No. Let's— let's just drop it." She held up her hands. "I don't want—" she took a deep breath, then two. When she lifted her gaze again, her eyes were clearer. "Why are you here?"

Christine's mouth fell into a firm, tight line, but she didn't press the subject. Instead, she moved to her bag, rummaging through it and taking out two water bottles. She tossed one to Veronica and then took a seat on the floor near the couch.

"I've been tracking Elijah for years."

"Oh Christ," Veronica let her head fall back. This was just getting worse by the minute. "_You're _the assassin."

"So he mentioned me," Christine smiled wryly. "I know he was your mentor. I know he practically raised you, but if you'd seen the things he's done." She shook her head. "We caught word of it maybe… three? Three years ago. After the Nevada chapter was wiped out. I followed a trail of corpses from California to Nevada to Utah and back. Each time I catch his trail it's something new, something worse than before." Her fingers lifted and trailed along the scars at her temple.

"Who did that to you?" Veronica asked, though she felt she already knew.

"I'll give you three guesses. One hint, my hunt for him turned slightly personal after I got these."

She didn't say anything, keeping her eyes on the bottle in her hands. Something in the back of her mind ordered her to drink, so she forced herself to take the cap off and lift the bottle to her lips.

"Took me a long time to track him to this place," Christine went on as she drank. "Lost his trail for weeks and… well he's certainly had time to make himself at home, judging by all the headless corpses I've found since I got here."

"He's trapped," Veronica blurted. She looked up to see Christine looking at her sharply. "Inside the casino. He can get the collar off if we get him out."

Christine sat back in her chair, lips pursed, as she considered that. Veronica knew what she was thinking. That there would be no 'getting him out'. She could practically see the gears turning as she plotted out how it would all go down. Taking a risk, she lifted her hands and signed to Christine. _Collar. Target. Radio. Listen._ She gestured between the two of them. Christine frowned.

_Understood? _She added. Christine nodded and took a bracing breath.

"Let's figure it out."

They talked for hours. Occasionally they would say nothing, using military hand signals and a funny form of charades to get their point across. Christine had stockpiled food, water. Veronica asked about the magazines, because they weren't exactly things she normally read, but Christine dismissed them by saying they were in the house already.

It was… still awkward. But that old familiarity was there, and Veronica gradually moved closer as the night went on. She'd get up, move across the room to look out the window, or leave to use the bathroom, and when she came back she'd sit a little closer. Christine wasn't stupid, she most assuredly knew what she was doing. Small smiles had to be concealed and the amused gleam in her eyes had to be explained away with a lame memory. But more often than not she just looked sad, and Veronica didn't want her to be sad. _She _didn't want to be sad, but it was hard to separate all the conflicting emotions swirling within her.

Anger, bitterness, regret, joy, hope.

She wanted to rant and rave and cry hysterically, laying the blame for everything at Christine's feet and demand answers ten years past due. She wanted to hold her and touch her and tell her all the things she never could or never did. She wanted to do both, but she didn't. She wouldn't even know where to start without sounding petulant, without coming across as needy.

So instead they just talked. And when Veronica got close enough and they were huddled on the floor eating two-hundred year old Salisbury steak, she nudged her with her foot and smiled.

And Christine smiled back.


	24. Have what you want

**Author's Note: **_ I love you all, okay? Okay._

* * *

They decided they'd play along. Christine would agree to help Elijah get out if it meant getting the collar off Veronica safely. Veronica knew she was planning on killing him, she just had to find a way to stop her before that happened. Exactly how she was going to do that, she didn't know. Thing was, she was starting to wonder if it was worth it. If maybe Christine wasn't right, maybe he did deserve to die after all he'd done.

Except it was still _Elijah. _

"So this Courier," Christine started. Veronica tilted her head as they walked. They were headed back to the fountain, to see if Elijah had a read on Collar Fourteen yet and to tell him Christine would cooperate willingly. "What's he like?"

"She," Veronica corrected. "And she's pretty amazing. You'd like her. Has a bit of a temper."

Christine waited a beat before posing the next question. "Are you two— uh…"

Veronica smiled sadly. "No. Just friends."

Christine nodded, but didn't say anything else, eyes on the path ahead of them. They picked their way through the streets, now armed to the teeth. Veronica had given Christine the holorifle and instead made for herself a makeshift glove from a bear trap. Christine also had quite a few sidearms stockpiled, two shotguns and one automatic rifle, plus all the spears she'd collected from the ghost people.

Ghost people. They gave Veronica the heebie-jeebies, but she was glad she didn't have to face them alone anymore. Fights were quick— and messy. Her jumpsuit was covered in a mixture of blood and the pink residue that coated almost everything they touched. If Veronica's collar started beeping, she'd stand back and Christine would venture forward alone to find the source of the interference.

It took a while, but eventually they reached the town square and the dried up fountain and the ghostly woman in the gorgeous dress. Elijah's head reappeared as they neared, and Veronica braced herself for this conversation.

"Veronica," Elijah greeted her, his tone patronising. "I see you found my assassin. How convenient. I trust introductions aren't needed."

"Convenient you didn't mention who it was, you mean," Veronica said quietly.

"I see you've retained some of your misguided _'feelings'_ for one another. Your tone displeases me Veronica, but we can work this out."

"Elijah." Christine stepped forward. "You'll answer for your crimes. You won't escape me again."

"Crimes?" He scoffed, actually _laughed _as if the idea of him committing a crime was ludicrous. Veronica's face twisted, still unwilling to believe this was what he'd become. "What I did and do is necessary for the greater good of us all. Try and arrest me, kill me, whatever. It won't do you any good. You'll have to get to me first. And I'm the only one who can remove Veronica's collar."

"_I know," _Christine snarled. "I'll help get to you. But there's only one way this can end."

"Yes, yes, yes. Of course," he chuckled. "By all means, go ahead and try. It worked out _so well_ the last time."

Christine's face turned livid.

"Do you have a read on the other collar yet?" Veronica cut in. She placed a hand on Christine's shoulder and shook her head once. She didn't look exactly pleased, but she nodded curtly and looked away.

"Eh? Oh. Yes. Well… yes and no. I have a read, but the subject is moving quite frequently. Trying to pinpoint his location to give you directions to him is proving difficult."

Veronica frowned. "Then how do we get to him?"

"Endurance. Patience. He has to sleep sometime."

"So do _we," _Christine pointed out. "We can't just sit around and wait for him."

"No. You can't, can you." It wasn't a question. "Fine. But you must understand, he's lived here since the bombs fell. Highly arrogant. Knows the place like the back of his hand." He sighed wearily. "Thought he might be useful in that regard, but he's proven eh… difficult. Most of the bodies you find laying around of the past collars are his doing. When I told you, Veronica, that greed, the lust for the treasures of this place, ruined the previous owners of the collars, Fourteen is the perfect example of it_._"

Two hundred years? Veronica's eyebrows shot up. That could only mean he was one of two things. And something else he said was nagging at her, but she couldn't quite pinpoint it yet. "He's a ghoul?"

"Yes. Yes. Not that it matters. Right now he's poking around in the Medical District. I don't know how long he'll remain in the area, but you can go and try to find him if you want. Remember, you cannot hurt him. His collar is linked to Veronica's and if one of them dies—"

"We get it," Christine snapped. "We'll get him to cooperate."

"Good. Good. See that you do. Because he is most likely unaware that the collars are now linked."

Veronica's head snapped up at that, but it was too late. Elijah's face flickered and died, and she and Christine were left alone once again.

* * *

The ghost person rasped and flailed, but its arm caught in Veronica's bear trap fist was lost to it, and it sunk to the ground on a choked gurgle. She flung the detached limb over her shoulder, and turned just in time to see it hit Christine squarely in the back of the head.

Whoops.

Christine turned slowly, giving her a wide-eyed look of '_what the hell?' _while she swiped at the pink mess sliding down the back of her neck. Veronica pressed her lips firmly together, trying not to laugh. The look on Christine's face was admittedly hilarious, but they didn't have time for a game of dodge ball with dismembered limbs, and she didn't argue when Christine gestured at her to keep moving, her expression stern. They were trying to make as little noise as possible, so they wouldn't tip off the ghoul they were trying to track down. It was hard, considering they didn't know where the hell they were going, or where he even was, but they'd decided to just make for the Clinic itself. At the very least, they reasoned, they'd find medical supplies.

It wasn't easy. Paths were blocked, gates rusted shut, the cloud lingered thick in some areas, and they fell back, coughing violently. So they had to make detours, up and around through buildings and rooftops.

"Couldn't be a nice ghoul and just sit in one place, could he?" Veronica griped as she tripped and stumbled through a darkened room. "Offer us a sit down, a glass of wine."

"Hmph," Christine reached out, grabbed the back of Veronica's collar and steadied her before she fell. "Don't know how many ghouls you've met, but they all seem like grouchy old dickbags to me. And if you don't start being quiet, he's going to sneak up on us instead of the other way around."

"You'd be grouchy too if you outlived everyone you ever cared about," Veronica pointed out and Christine scowled at the back of her head. They took a few more steps toward the open doorway before the collar started beeping and Veronica backed up frantically, bumping into her. She laid her hands on her shoulders, moving around her with a patient gleam in her eyes.

"Stay here. I've got this."

"Yeah," Veronica nodded. "Okay. I'll just… read a book."

Christine smirked as she turned, poked her head out of the door and looked around for threats. Once she deemed it was clear, she was gone.

Veronica sighed, swinging her arms idly and bouncing from heel to toe. She hated this part, the waiting. Feeling useless while Christine ran off to flick a switch so Veronica's head wouldn't blow up. She tip-toed over to a moldy old couch and sat on it, prepared to wait in relative comfort.

So she waited.

And waited. And once her left butt cheek got numb she started to get worried. Christine never took this long in finding the radios. Frowning, she stood up and cautiously approached the door, waiting for the beeping that signalled the countdown to the kaboom.

It didn't come. She breathed easier. Christine must have got the radio causing the interference after all.

But if that was the case, _where was she?_

Not willing to wait any longer, she ventured outside. A staircase led down to an abandoned courtyard, and a narrow alley from there led out to the street. Silence welled up around her, heavy and oppressing, and she had the distinct sensation that something was _wrong. _

She started walking, eyes and ears alert for signs of Christine. When the silence only seemed to grow, she picked up the pace.

* * *

Riley woke violently, coughing and hacking as she tried to get air into her system. But the air she got wasn't right. It was too heavy, smothering. She rolled over, pushing herself up on all fours while she took sharp, shallow gasps.

And then she felt it. An old, familiar weight she hadn't felt in over a year, suffocating her more than the air around her. She pushed herself up so she was kneeling, eyes wide as her fingers touched on cold metal. Panic bubbled up in her throat as recognition and fear collided within her.

"No," she gasped, her voice strained. She tugged at the collar, an angry snarl rising to her lips. "_No. _Shit. Fucking god damn-" she fell back on her ass, hands tangled in her hair while she clamped down hard on the urge to break down. It wouldn't help. Never helped. She had to remain calm, focused. _What happened? _She took quick, shallow breaths as she tried to piece together the events that brought her here. But she couldn't. Couldn't remember anything beyond getting gassed in a Brotherhood bunker looking for Veronica.

"_Shit."_

"Riley!"

She jerked her head up, brow furrowed as she searched the area. Her name was hissed again and this time she found the source. It was Cass, and she was waving at her frantically from behind a support beam across the street. Riley frowned at her.

"Wh-"

"Come here!" Cass hissed. Riley looked around, but saw nothing that was even remotely threatening. A holographic woman swayed enticingly in the middle of the courtyard they were in. Hardly fear-inducing. Still, she decided to put faith in her friend and scurried over on hands and knees.

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded, crouching behind her. Cass was busy looking around the beam and down the street. "What are you looking for? What are you _wearing? _Where the fuck's my beret?"

"I hope to hell those priorities aren't in order right now," Cass muttered. "Just shut up. One of them was close and I had to move so it wouldn't see me."

Riley gaped at her. "One of what?"

"Trust me, if I knew I'd tell you. We have no weapons, so we're laying low."

"Where the hell is _Boone?" _she jabbed Cass in the shoulder and the older woman swatted at her.

"Scouting. Christ." She rubbed at the bridge of her nose and Riley took the time to really look at her, noticing perhaps belatedly that her hat was missing too and her hair was down. It softened her features, but the tautness of her jaw and the worry in her eyes spoke volumes of the stress she was under. "He should have been back by now."

Riley's eyes sharpened. "How long has he been gone? How long was I out?"

Cass exhaled sharply, annoyed. She took another quick peek around the corner and filled her in as best she could. Riley listened attentively without interrupting. When she was done, Riley just stared at her, dumbfounded.

"Let me get this straight. You woke up, talked to a giant floating head who told you we're going to break into a casino for him in the middle of a city of ghosts and if we don't he can kill us all with the press of a button."

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Oh," Riley said, blowing out a breath. "Well, okay then." She took another breath, waited a beat, before the absence of Boone started to worry her. "Maybe he's hurt."

"Maybe. Not dead though."

Her dismissive tone irked her. "How do you know he's not dead?"

"Collars are linked. One dies, we all die."

"Fucking Jesus Christ."

"Yup."

Her mind raced, trying to figure out a course of action. Wait for Boone? Go looking for him? Go scouting herself?

"Which way did he go?"

"Why?" Cass turned her head, eyes narrowed as she read what was on Riley's face. "Fuck you. You are not leaving me here."

"Well I'm not leaving him out there," Riley hissed. "And I never said anything about leaving you here. You'd come with me."

"He said to wait here. So we're waiting," Cass argued.

"He told _you _to wait here. I was unconscious and didn't get told shit."

"Fuck's sake. Are we seriously arguing about this?" Cass demanded. "Seriously?"

"I don't like sitting around with my thumb up my ass, thank you very much."

"Noted. Look," Cass sighed. "The old man said he reprogrammed a few things in your Pip-Boy." Riley's eyes went wide and she lifted her arm, horrified. She didn't know _why _exactly, it wasn't like she could do anything about it. But the idea that someone was in there, poking around? It was kinda like having someone read your diary.

"The collars have transceivers in them," Cass went on. "Find Boone's frequency. Might even show up on that little map thing."

She toggled through the menus, bringing up the radio and the listed frequencies that were suddenly available. She picked one, and heard nothing but breathing. She picked another and heard the same thing, only at a different tempo. It _might _have been masculine breathing? She glared at the device on her arm, frustrated.

"Why can't people narrate or talk to themselves?" she muttered. She flipped to the map, and noted six little blips. Three were in the Medical District. She blinked. "Uh. The old man say if there were other people here?"

"At least two others."

"I'm reading six. You, me, Boone, that's three. Who are the other three?"

Cass held up her hands. "Don't look at me, I have no clue."

The memory of Veronica's hood laying on the floor of the bunker nagged at her as she stared at the little blips. It stood to reason that there was a distinct possibility she got caught in the same trap. Maybe she was here?

"You think Ronnie's one of them?"

Cass frowned. "I didn't think of that. Maybe?"

"Right." Riley blew out a breath. "Okay." She tugged at the collar again, grimacing. Sweat was beading on her brow. Cass watched her carefully.

"You okay?"

"Yes. No." She looked away and forced herself to drop her hands, steady her breathing once more. "Never thought I'd be in one of these things again."

"Oh. Right." Cass rubbed at the back of her neck. "You need a hug?" Riley spared her a look and her shoulders went up defensively. "Just saying, if you need one I could— you know. Offer my services. Or whatever."

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I'll keep that in mind. Look, we'll give Boone half an hour. If he's not back by then we're going after him."

Cass nodded. "I can work with that."


	25. Your way's always the best way

**Author's note:** _I feel like I constantly need to apologize to you guys for how slowly the story progresses. And then I need to apologize for apologizing so much and now I'm just being stereotypically Canadian. Thank you everyone for reading! Review if you feel like it and please don't hesitate to tell me if I'm doing something weird!_

_Edit: The last scene in this chapter with Cass and Riley was edited. So if you haven't read the new version, I highly suggest you do!_

* * *

Concern turned to worry after half an hour of searching turned up no sign of Christine anywhere. After an hour, worry turned to panic and Veronica was well on her way to lost. The streets looked the same, the garbage and the cloud and the pink… everything. It all blurred together until she couldn't even tell which paths she'd already taken. She pushed through gates, clambered over corpses and dragged ladders over to buildings so she could get above the Cloud. She had to find radios herself to progress forward, running in a mind-numbing swirl of hysteria just to find a switch.

More often than not she said screw the switch, and ended up throwing the radio to the ground.

To top it all off the city was covered in graffiti that only seemed to mock her.

_Tick tick tick._

_NOWHERE TO RUN!_

_RUN RUN RUN!_

_We'll be together soon._

Finally, frustrated, tearful and shaking, she stopped at a crossroads. She pivoted, looking one way, then the other, blinking tears out of her eyes so she could see the empty roads that were her choices. The sign above her told her she'd left the Medical District, so she was even more lost than she thought she was. But the Medical District was where she needed to be, because that's where Christine had to be, so at least she had a direction to go on.

She wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve, took a deep breath, and started walking again. She ignored the door on her left that read _'Maintenance', _and was even less aware of the distant rasping that told her she wasn't alone, unable to hear it over her laboured and shaky breaths. She screamed when the hands came from behind and grabbed her. Then, wide-eyed and furious as one clamped over her mouth, she started to fight back.

Except she was exhausted. She'd just spent over an hour frantically running to and fro in a growing panic that was neither becoming of a lady nor tactically wise as a soldier. Her movements were sluggish and she still hadn't caught her breath and her attacker had no problems whatsoever in dragging her back into the closet he'd hid in.

Still, she couldn't just give up. She struggled—weakly, yes, but she struggled all the same—kicking and wrenching against his hold even as he kicked the door shut, enveloping them in darkness. She might have had enough strength left to flip him over her shoulder, and was working up to do just that when he hissed her name.

"Veronica. Stop— It's me. Hey. Hey, hey, hey. Veronica, it's me," his hand jerked at her head, trying to keep her still. Stubble rubbed against her temple and she froze, eyes wide. She knew that voice.

"Mmph?" she said, and he removed his hand from her mouth, letting her go. She turned around, eyes straining against the darkness while she caught her breath.

"Boone?"

"Yeah."

"Holy shit," she lifted her hands to her face, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyelids. And then she reached out and hit him. Hard. "You jerk! You scared the living hell out of me!"

"Nice to see you, too." His tone was not amused. He was probably scowling at her right now.

"Oh my god, you're such an ass," she laughed humorlessly, but the relief she felt at hearing his voice was practically palpable. "You win an award, okay? For unbelievably shitty timing at rescuing damsels. Why didn't you just call my name instead of grabbing me like something out of a horror holotape?"

"I did," he retorted. "You didn't hear me. Any louder and I would have alerted the group of hostiles around the corner. That you were going to run into. Alone."

"Group of—" she frowned. Her eyes were adjusting now, and she could make out his form against the deeper darkness of the room around them. "The ghost people. Right." She took a breath. Nodded. "Okay. We can take them."

"Are you armed?"

"I am covered in the blood of my enemies," she declared.

"Is that what that smell is?"

"Ha. Are _you_ armed?"

He sighed and lifted something heavy. "I have this. I don't think there's much ammo. Not even sure how to load it."

She blinked. The idea that Boone didn't know how to handle a gun? Yeah. Not exactly what she thought she'd hear. Ever. So, it could only mean one thing, and luckily that thing was something she could help with. "Energy weapon?"

"Yeah."

"Let me see it."

He reached past her to prop the door open a crack, letting in the dim light from the street outside. He held out the weapon and she stared at it.

"Where did you get that?" she whispered. Her throat had gone dry at the sight of the holorifle in his hands. She looked up at him when he didn't answer, found him watching her curiously and found herself unnerved by him without his aviators. But he still didn't answer her. "Where did you get that?" She repeated, her voice harder.

His eyes narrowed. "I found it."

"Where?" she demanded. He was still watching her face, eyes hard and appraising while he took in her reaction.

"What's this about?"

"_Where?"_

His jaw twitched angrily as he stared her down, and she got the distinct impression that she was not going to win in a war of wills when it came to Boone. She had to try something else. She took a calming breath.

"Can you take me to where you found it?" She asked instead. He didn't budge. "If you take me to where you found it, I'll explain what's going on."

His frown deepened. "More secrets? After the stunt you pulled with Riley, forget it. Find it yourself."

She gaped, speechless. Maybe she was just so used to him backing up Riley on everything that it hadn't occurred to her that he wouldn't do the same thing for her. But no, she reminded herself, in their little cohesive unit, Riley was the bonding force. Boone's loyalty was to her, not to Veronica. She floundered to find her voice. "It's not like that. Just—"

"I don't want to hear it," he said curtly. "You can tell it to Riley. She's the one I had to drag kicking and screaming from following you into a god damn minefield in a _sandstorm_." He all but snarled the last word and she stared at him, horrified. Riley had done what? She'd cared enough to do _what? _A curling fist of shame was starting to take hold in the pit of her stomach and she looked down at her feet.

"I didn't—"

"If you need to go, then go. I need to get back. I've already been gone too long and Riley's probably up by now. She'll want to know what's going on."

Her head snapped back up. "She's here?"

"You think I went looking for you alone?" The faintest hint of amusement crept into his voice. "She's here. And Cass. Found that bunker after the storm died down." His gaze flicked down to her collar. "Like you did, I guess."

She hadn't noticed his collar until now. Elijah said something about getting more help, didn't he?

Boone took a step towards the door, paused, and looked down at her. "Are you coming?"

When she didn't answer, he turned to leave.

"Wait. Boone, wait." She gripped his sleeve. "I was looking for someone. Someone I was with. We got separated and I—" she ran a hand over her face. "Okay. Okay. The holorifle. I gave her the holorifle. That's why I freaked when I saw you had it. I can't just leave her out there. There's more going on here than you know and— look I just have to find her. Okay?"

He turned to face her. "What do you mean, more going on here?"

She gnawed on her lip. "When you got here, did you speak to a man? At the fountain. Did he tell you what he wants you to do here? Did he explain the collars?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Did he mention me?"

Now he just looked baffled, and the knife in her heart twisted deeper. Pawns. They were just pawns.

"I'll take that as a 'no'. Look. I will explain everything. _Everything_," she repeated when he narrowed his eyes at her. "When we meet up with the others, I will. But I can't just leave her out there without trying and you know where she was last. _Help me," _she pleaded, her voice strained. "Please?"

He exhaled, long and hard, head bowed as he pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose. She swallowed nervously, and then he sighed again. "Fine. Let's go."

* * *

Following Boone's lead, and Veronica's descriptions of what she remembered of the area she lost Christine in, it took them maybe ten minutes to find it. She was flabbergasted that he could know his way around so well already. She'd run around in a blind panic and probably circled the area three times over, but he just calmly took two lefts, hopped a fence, scaled a wall and went down a narrow alley before she found herself standing in the courtyard with the room above her.

"This is it?" Boone asked, looking around as they climbed the stairs. Veronica nodded, still dumbfounded, hovering in the doorway while he checked the place out.

"How did you even—"

"Recon mean anything to you?" He turned slowly in place, arms folded. "We're not just snipers. We scout. You need a good sense of direction for it. Don't always have maps."

She nodded again. Of course. "Collar started beeping here," she said, stepping farther into the room. "Christine left to find the radio—"

"Christine?" he rubbed a hand over his face, turned to stare at her as if suddenly tired. _"Your_ Christine?"

She blinked at him, startled that he remembered. More startled that he _heard_ that conversation at all, because the day that conversation with Riley went down, they were somewhere between Primm and the border Outpost and Boone was trailing behind them at a distance.

_Note to self, _she thought, _Boone has mutant hearing. _

"Yes," she said. "My Christine."

His eyebrows went up, but he said nothing else as he stood there, staring at her. It was awkward, like he was reading her, placing several facts in order and coming to a conclusion. She fidgeted. And then he stalked past her and she had no choice but to follow him out and back down the stairs.

They didn't go far; down the stairs and out onto the main street. He took a left and stopped after a few feet. "This is it." He gestured at the floor of a doorway, the room beyond the usual shambles. Broken furniture, piles of garbage, scattered books. A radio and a broken terminal sat silent on a desk in the corner. "Found the weapon here."

She paused, hand on the edge of the doorway, quiet. No sign of Christine. Nothing. And it was so close, not even thirty feet from where she left her, and still she heard nothing. God dammit.

Boone kept his eyes on the street. "I know you want to find her. But we need to get back."

She swallowed. "But—"

"Numbers will help," he said calmly. "Tracking your friend with nothing to go on is going to lead us in circles."

"But— you're Boone," she laughed lightly. He was joking, right? "You can track anything. You're First Recon."

He shook his head, just once, and said, "I can track in a desert, I could follow you for days, weather permitting. Not here. We fall back, we regroup, and start fresh. We can't leave them alone anyway, and given Riley's track record, Cass won't be able to keep her there forever. They need to know what's going on."

Right. Christine wasn't the only one who needed help. Cass and Riley were unarmed and alone and Boone was right; they needed to regroup.

"Okay," she nodded. "We'll do it your way."

* * *

"How many did you put in?"

"Like, I dunno, forty? Push something."

"There's no buttons. Just a screen."

"So…touch the screen?"

"Fuck you, that won't work."

Riley reached out and poked the screen over Cass' shoulder, and a menu popped up on a bright blue canvas.

"Oh," Cass said. Riley shook her head, a little roll of her eyes that went unseen by the older woman in front of her. Twenty minutes had passed since she'd woken up. She'd calmed down a good margin, but Cass was determined to keep her distracted while they waited for Boone and they took to gathering up the little metal chips scattered in the dried up fountain.

Then Riley found the vending machine.

They argued over what to choose, swearing and bickering because Riley wanted Salisbury steak and Cass was trying to point out they had no way to cook it. Cass wanted pork and beans and Riley declared a veto because she was sick of eating it. A minute later they watched in awe as a box of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes literally materialised in front of them.

"Is it safe to eat?" Cass wondered.

Riley reached out, taking the box and holding it under her Pip-Boy's scanner. "No radiation," she murmured.

"Good enough for me." Cass snatched it out of her hands. Riley turned while she tore open the box, keeping her eyes on the streets surrounding them. Whatever had freaked Cass out earlier had slunk back into the shadows a while ago, but Riley knew they'd be seeing it again. Whatever 'it' was. Now, the streets were left as nothing but deserted remnants to an age long past. She longed to go, to explore, to find Boone and a way out of here. Ten more minutes, she told herself. Ten minutes before her commitment to staying here was over and then she could actually do something.

"Oh my god." Cass groaned through a mouthful of pastry behind her. "Oh my god, Riley you have to try this."

"I've had a snack cake before, Cass," she said without turning, eyes still trained hard on the emptiness around them. Something moved across the courtyard, a shadow in the street beyond it, and she narrowed her eyes, wary.

"Yeah, but—"

The shadow was approaching slowly, and she took a step back. "Cass."

"What?"

"Get down." Her hand reached out, gripping Cass' arm like a vice and yanking her down to a crouch. They shuffled, keeping low, until they were behind the crumbling column. The form hesitated, turning and gesturing in a familiar motion that had Riley jerking her head up. That was—

She breathed a sigh of relief as Boone made his way across to the fountain.

"Well shit, took him long enough," Cass muttered as she stood. They started making their way over but paused when another figure appeared behind him.

"Holy shit," Cass breathed. Riley took one step, then two, then broke out into a full out run. She flew across the pavement, heart pounding. Veronica staggered only slightly when Riley launched herself at her, enveloping her in a back-crushing hug. It had been, what, a day since they last saw each other? It felt far longer.

"You idiot," Riley said, her voice cracking. "You stupid, arrogant—"

Veronica's arms were around her now, and her anger weakened.

"—inconsiderate, selfish—"

There was a hand in her hair, soothing.

"—reckless, naive, stupid stupid girl," Riley finished. Veronica sighed, her voice muffled against the fabric of her jumpsuit and Riley's shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

She tightened her hold a little. "I know."


	26. I have succumbed

**Author's Note:**_ First off, an apology on the delay on this chapter. So many issues presented themselves to me and lordy lordy, it was a struggle to figure this out. Secondly, I hope everyone had a great holiday! I got some great reviews from you guys and I want to thank you for them! They always make my day, they do. :3 I hope I can get the story back on a regular schedule now that I jumped this hurdle. _

_Also! And this is **IMPORTANT:** I actually must ask that everyone go back to the **last chapter** and read (or re-read) the **last scene**. I deleted it rather early after posting that chapter, and some (or many) of you might not have read it. Those that have? It was edited, so... refresh your memory? I'm sorry! D:_

* * *

"I'm glad you're here," Veronica said, pulling away. "I mean, I'm not glad you're _here_ but I am glad you're… here." She tried for a smile, failed, and sighed as she dropped her face into her hands. "God, it's all so messed up. I thought I'd get answers. But everything's just fucked to hell and—" she paused, taking another bracing breath as she dropped her hands. When she opened her eyes, they were a little more focused. "Okay. We have to— there's things you gotta know. Things we need to do. We need to start mobilising on Elijah's plan, but there's—"

Riley's eyebrows lifted. "Elijah? _The_ Elijah? _Father_ Elijah?" Her incredulous expression grew as Veronica's shoulders sagged. "That's the old man who brought us here? Who put this thing on me?" Her hand lifted to the collar as she tried to quell the rage building within her. Well. She had someone to blame now. A target was always good.

Veronica grimaced. "It's complicated. And I don't know all the details myself. But yes. And—" She paused, took a bracing breath. "Christine is here. Or she was and now— I lost her and I need you to help me find her and I don't know if she's hurt or something worse but—"

Her voice was breaking and Riley felt her anger vanish. Now wasn't the time. "Okay, okay. Calm down, just breathe." Riley pulled her back into a hug. This was almost too much. Elijah? Christine? Veronica shouldn't have to deal with this, not when those wounds were old and closed. It wasn't fair.

Her fingers brush against the collar around Veronica's neck and she frowned, pulling back to look at her properly.

"Why are you wearing one of those if Elijah was the one who brought you here? I thought he was your mentor."

Veronica grimaced. "It wasn't him. Or it… kinda was. He's trapped in the casino and we need to get him out. He has the mutant do the um… fetching." She ran a hand through her short crop of hair. "Riley, please. Christine—"

"I know, I know. We'll find her." She laid a hand on her shoulder. Behind Veronica, swathed in the blue light emanating from the hologram, Boone's gaze lifted and met hers. He looked eerie and pale, and… odd, without his beret. But his eyes were firm as he nodded and Riley knew she had his support on this. She stepped back and took a breath, pulling focus to the task at hand.

"Okay. What do we know?"

Boone moved closer. "Bring up your map." She did, and they huddled around in the pink gloom as he cycled through it. "Christine's last known location was here." He tapped the screen. "We could scout a perimeter, work in pairs and clear each block at a time."

"We're still unarmed," Cass pointed out, hugging her arms.

"Christine has a place here," Veronica said. "Um. A base of operations, I guess. She had a stash of weapons in there, and it's not too far."

Riley nodded. "She might head there herself if she's able. It's a good place to start. Can you point it out?"

"Not on the map. I could lead you there, though. I know the way."

Riley looked around, checking for argument from anyone. "So that's settled? We go, get armed, find Christine. Then deal with Elijah?"

"I deal with Elijah," Veronica said, her voice firm. "When we find Christine— you should know, she was sent here to kill him. But I can't— I just don't think I can let her do that. We have to stop her if she tries."

Boone flicked his gaze to Riley and she looked away, nodding distractedly. She could agree to Veronica's request. Elijah was her call. She deserved that, and Riley owed her more than just trust. She could give her closure, too. "Okay. What do you want done with him?"

"I don't know. I want to talk to him. I have so many questions about… everything and I can't let anything happen to him without getting answers." She turned away, not meeting anyone's gaze. "Let's go."

* * *

They followed Veronica through the streets. Boone took point beside her and Riley and Cass were left trailing behind them uselessly. She hated the feeling. She didn't know what to do with her hands, and she felt lame sticking them in her pockets. Instead, she tried keeping her eyes open for anything useful in the debris filling the streets. Occasionally her eyes would pick out a med-kit stashed behind a column, or a suitcase that didn't belong in the clutter. The first stimpak they found Cass claimed for herself, the wound on her arm still needing the extra healing.

It was slow going. The air was stifling with the Cloud getting into everything, and Boone kept a cautious vigil as they rounded corners and crept down alleys.

It was some time before they paused at an intersection. A suitcase and its contents lay scattered on the ground, and Veronica bent, picking at a few things and tossing them back in.

"Food," she explained, snapping the suitcase shut and standing. "Met a ghost person here and I sort of dropped everything."

"I'll carry that." Cass held out her hand and Veronica handed it over. "Give me something to do besides stand around and look pretty."

"Ghost person?" Riley turned in a slow circle, eyeing the rooftops. "Is that what those… things…are?" She glanced at Boone. "Did you meet any when you were scouting?"

He shook his head. "Didn't fight any. Came across a few but kept hidden since I wasn't armed. They're—" he frowned. "—not right. Movements are erratic. Would be hard to aim at."

"Take off their heads and they die properly," Veronica added. "Otherwise they just get back up."

Everyone turned to stare at her.

"You didn't mention that," Boone said slowly.

"I'm sorry, what?" Cass blinked. "Did I hear you right? We have to decapitate these fuckers or they rise from the dead?"

Veronica shrugged helplessly. "Yep."

"Well fuck me. That's some trick. How the hell did you manage that?"

Riley tugged at her collar, turning away while Veronica explained what happened in detail to Cass. Considering she had an explosive device on a trigger wrapped coldly around her own neck, she wasn't exactly keen to listen to details about something losing its head. Boone moved beside her, arms folded.

"That's the sixth time you've done that since we left the fountain."

She dropped her hand, not saying anything. She kept her eyes on the windows above them, looking for movement.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Never been better. I'm more worried about you," she tried for a smile as she glanced up at him. "Without your beret this long, you might develop separation anxiety."

He ran a hand over his scalp. "It's different." Neither said anything for a moment, but his brow remained furrowed and his gaze remained on her. "You're sure you're okay?

She grimaced. "No. I'm not okay. But I'll deal with it." She glanced at Veronica, still talking with Cass. "We have bigger worries than my year old—" she frowned, eyes drifting upwards to the balcony overhead. A skeleton lay there, one bony arm dangling through the baluster. But it wasn't the body that caught her eye, it was the automatic rifle laying next to it, peeking out over the edge.

"Riley?"

"Give me a boost." She ran over until she stood underneath it. Seeing what she was after, he moved, setting the holorifle down and bending with his hands cupped in front of him. She placed her foot in his hands and her hands on his shoulders.

"On two," she said, eyes on his. She nodded. "One, two." Up she went, and she flailed for a moment while she struggled to keep her balance. Boone took a step back to compensate her leaning too far forward, and a moment later she was stable. He moved her back toward the gun and she grabbed it, pulling it out from underneath the crumbling bones of its previous owner. Two boxes of ammo lay next to it and she grabbed those too.

"Okay," she called down. Neither of them moved, and she realised her predicament. "Um. Boone? My hands are full."

"Drop the gun," Veronica said. Both girls had wandered over to see what they were up to.

"Don't," Boone said, his voice strained as he struggled to keep her upright. "Could go off."

"Hand me the gun," Cass said, moving beside them. Riley did, lowering it carefully until Cass gripped it and backed away. She barely tossed both boxes of ammo to Veronica before Boone's hands were out from underneath her feet and she was falling. His arms gripped her around the waist before she hit the ground, and she took a moment to catch her breath before he slowly set her down in front of him.

"Good catch," she said, smiling.

"Good eye."

"It's jammed," Cass griped, and they turned to see her struggling with the magazine.

"Christine's base," Boone turned to Veronica. "It's close?" She nodded.

"Yeah. You might be able to fix it there. I know she had a gun cleaning kit. Saw it on the shelf."

Riley checked her Pip-Boy. She was mostly just looking for the time, to see how much they wasted in this little intersection, but she paused in lowering it. The map was still open, and a little blinking marker was not far from their location. She frowned.

"Uh, guys?"

"What?"

"We have company."

"Where?" Boone turned to scan the streets while Veronica rushed over to look at the map. Riley gestured east.

"Down the street that way."

Veronica frowned, staring at the little blip and then back up at the street. "That's Collar Fourteen. The ghoul we were trying to track when Christine went missing. Elijah said he doesn't know the collars are linked. And—" she glanced back and forth between the Pip-Boy and the street again. "That's… I'm not sure but I think that's Christine's base. You don't think—?"

At that, Riley snatched her Pip-Boy back and started scrolling through the local map of the area. Veronica was shifting from foot to foot beside her, anxious to get moving. Riley ignored her, focused on what she was doing.

"Okay," she said finally. "I have a route planned out. Boone, with me. You two," she gestured at the girls, "keep your distance and follow. Stay low and quiet."

"You're not armed," Cass pointed out. "And this gun is shit."

"This guy has a collar," Riley reminded her. "Wouldn't matter if I was or not because I can't hurt him. Let's move out."

She led them through the buildings on the right, up and down staircases and through holes in the walls, picking their way through crumbling debris. They paused across the street from the building Fourteen was in, her and Boone huddled beneath a window and Riley glanced back, checking with Veronica where she was crouched behind a couch with Cass. She nodded once—this was the same building—and Riley gestured at Boone.

"You're up," she whispered. "Keep it clean."

He nodded, handing her the holorifle. He kept low, moving to the door slowly with his eyes on the street. And then he was gone, across the road and the rubble and slipping into the open door without a sound. They waited, breath held and ears straining against the silence until they heard the distant sound of a scuffle. It didn't last long. Riley jerked her head and, together with Cass and Veronica, they walked across the street and stepped inside.

"I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding," the ghoul was trying to laugh as they entered. Boone had him face up against a wall, his arms held behind his back in a vice grip. Riley glanced around, an overturned end-table and a broken mirror lay strewn on the floor, shards of glass glinting in the low light. The room was otherwise spotless, dust-free and clear of garbage. Someone had spent a good deal of time here recently.

She turned to where Boone was still holding the ghoul. He was well-dressed, wearing a clean cut suit that didn't even look dirty. Sunglasses sat on what was left of his nose, but they were being pushed askew as Boone shoved his face up against the peeling wallpaper.

"You're not making a very good first impression, you know," the ghoul went on. "Assaulting a potential ally? Your predecessors had more sense than that." He paused. "Actually," he drawled, "maybe not. But you _can_ be reasonable about this, you know."

"Get a chair," Riley ordered, her tone bored, and Veronica rushed across the room to the kitchen. Riley bent to the floor, picking up a discarded handgun as Boone yanked the ghoul from the wall. She checked it over while Veronica set a rickety wooden chair in the centre of the room and then they set about securing him to it with rope Cass found bundled in a closet.

"Are we satisfied?" The ghoul asked when they were done. He tested the bindings, jerking his wrists uselessly. "And was this necessary? I'm unarmed, you know. Four against one? Really," he chided. "I guess I should be flattered. That would help you know; flattery. It goes a long way when you want something."

Riley forced a brittle smile. "I'm going to make this short. What are you doing here?"

Veronica glanced at her, brows knit in confusion, and Riley waved her off. That might not be the question Veronica wanted to ask, but it was the question Riley wanted answered.

"Depends on what you mean by 'here'," said the ghoul, sneering. "Here in the Sierra Madre, here on this planet, here, bound to this chair and listening to your inane questions—?"

"In this house."

"Oh. Well why didn't you say so? I was scavenging for supplies." His tone was nonchalant, and he gave a slight shrug. "It's not yours, is it? No, you just got here," he smiled smugly. "I'm telling the truth, you know. I had it on good authority that it was recently vacated," he went on, and Riley smiled, pleased. There it was. "But if you want to argue rights to—"

"How did you know that?" Veronica stepped forward, eyes bright and angry.

"I beg your pardon?"

She reached out and gripped him by the front of his shirt, dragging him up and forward until he was teetering on two chair legs. To his credit, Riley noticed, he didn't react, not even when Veronica shoved her face in his and growled.

"Where. Is. She?"

"My dear, you are ruining a perfectly good employment opportunity, you know. And my suit. This is haute couture." He smiled, but it was forced. The kind you give to people you'd rather not talk to. "Dry clean only." He paused, eyeing Veronica critically while she glared daggers at him. "You know… whatever that old man told you, I can tell you now: I'm the only one who knows how to get into that vault. You work for me instead of him? And I'm sure we can come to an arrangement, a suitable contract with all parties happy. That is, of course, if you untie me."

Vault? Cass had mentioned a vault, didn't she? No. She mentioned the casino. They were breaking into a casino. What did a vault have to do with anything?

Riley sighed. This was getting them nowhere. The ghoul obviously knew how to remain calm in a situation, and he obviously had an agenda. Liked to have the upper hand, Riley realised. And with that, a thought presented itself, slow and tangible, and she lifted her head as it took form.

He didn't know the collars were linked.

Turning, Riley lifted the handgun, levelling it with his head. "Enough of this. Where's the girl?"

Cass stepped forward, eyes wide. "Riley, what the—"

Boone jerked her back, searing her with a firm glare and a shake of his head. Veronica lifted her gaze to Riley's and held it, eyes questioning. Riley gave a gentle nod of her head, and Veronica dropped the ghoul back so that he was stable on all four chair legs once more.

"Now that's more like it," he said, and Riley cocked the hammer back on the gun, reminding him that just because Veronica backed off he wasn't in the clear. The ghoul went quiet.

"As I was saying," Riley said sweetly. "Where's the girl?"

"I don't know what—"

"You had it on good authority this place was recently vacated," she said, quoting him. "You wouldn't know that unless you knew what happened to the girl who was staying here." She leaned forward, speaking slowly. "Now I'm going to ask again, and you're going to answer, or we're going to have a little mess on your couture suit. What's it going to be?"

His pleasant exterior vanished, and in its place he was suddenly cold, sneering at her with his rotted lips.

"Well, well, well. Aren't we the perceptive one? Read into that, did you? Impressive. The Sierra Madre's made fools of dozens of tourists. Claimed corpses as her own. And now you come along. How very interesting."

"Now would be a good time to answer me, asshole."

"Say I do know where she is, and I tell you." He tilted his head up at her. "What next? The odds aren't exactly in my favour and I'm not making a deal unless I know who has the winning hand."

"I have a gun to your head. Figure. It. Out." She pressed the barrel to his temple, pressing harder with each word.

"Alright. Alright!" He leaned away from her. "I get the picture. You want the girl, she's in the clinic, in one of the auto-docs there."

An auto-doc? He kidnapped her to put her in an auto-doc? That didn't make sense. Riley narrowed her eyes at him, looking for a tell but finding none. "Veronica. You want to go with me or stay here?"

"I'm going."

Riley lowered the gun. The ghoul sighed with relief, sagging against the rope holding him and she turned away. "Boone, you and Cass stay here and watch him. We'll check the Clinic and bring her back if she's there."

Boone nodded. "Make it quick. No detours."

"In and out," she smiled. She and Veronica gathered what they could. Riley found a shotgun and shells upstairs, and a small satchel that she threw over her shoulder. It reminded her of the bag she carried before she got shot in the head, and loaded it with ammo and a couple bottles of purified water. Once they were ready, they headed out.


	27. To this passive sensation

**Author's Note: **_Just a quick note thanking those of you who have pointed out flaws and errors. You've been a great help! Thank you everyone for reading/reviewing!_

* * *

Stepping back outside into the smothering constraints of the streets, Riley felt like an immediate dismal weight landed on her shoulders. It was the lights, the smell, the emptiness; the Cloud gathered and swelled and was already suffocating her, seeping back into her lungs. She hated it here and they'd only been here a few hours. She wanted out, but the knowledge that she couldn't go anywhere but towards that damn casino was like a god damn kick to the face.

But at least it was a goal. A depressing goal, and not a goal of her own making, sure, but one she could work towards if it meant getting them out of there alive.

They moved quickly and quietly. Riley took point, using her map to guide them through the winding streets. True to her word, she took no detours, stopping only when the allure of ammo cases, spare shells or metal chips was enough to pull her from their path. It was the Cloud that kept rerouting them, pushing them into areas with the disjointed garble of speakers. Riley's gun barked quick and sharp in the silence of the villa as she took out each one while Veronica followed quietly behind her.

When they reached the door to the medical clinic and Veronica still hadn't spoken more than a few words, Riley stopped with her hand on the knob. She pursed her lips, debating, before turning to face her. "Are you okay?"

Veronica blinked. "Me? I'm fine. Never been better. See this?" She pointed at her face. "This is me being fine."

Riley merely lifted one brow, and the Scribe's shoulders fell, sighing. "This is me being stressed. I just want to make sure Christine is okay."

"She's in an auto-doc. What's it going to do, heal her to death?"

"You don't understand what they're capable of. Malfunctioning auto-docs?—and trust me, there are plenty out there—they can cause some serious damage. Cut too deep, remove a limb, miscalculate the med-x dosage. The list goes on." She shook her head. "I just… once I see that she's okay, I'll be okay. And we can focus on getting into the casino and then back home."

Riley nodded, satisfied, and they stepped inside. She paused in the doorway. The waiting room was dimly lit, the last dregs from the track lighting over the reception desk still flickering their last, brownish glow. The counter was covered in dust, clipboards and pencils, two hundred year old waiting lists for people long dead. The hum of generators filled her ears, familiar old world technology that the NCR abused like no tomorrow. And something else…

"Do you smell that?" Veronica wrinkled her nose. "Smells like…"

Riley grimaced, walking past her. "Rotting corpse."

They followed the scent, down the hall and to the right, into a room filled with examination tables. And on these examination tables, headless corpses in the same matching jumpsuits they all wore, splattered with blood. Their skin was a sickly grey, dry and brittle from the stretching of bloating. They must have been there at least a week, which ruled out any of them being Christine, thankfully. Mannequins posed in corners, toppled over in some places, all sporting inactive bomb collars like some sort of sick fashion display. Elijah had to have been working here before his unexpected tenure at the casino, she realised.

"Well," said Riley, covering her nose with the sleeve of her jumpsuit. "This is… nice."

"How could he do this?" Veronica whispered, horrified. She took a step toward one of the corpses, hand outstretched and shaking. She seemed to think better on that, dropping her arm and turning instead, staring at Riley with wide eyes. "I don't get it. These were _people."_

She didn't know what to say, and stood there helplessly floundering for words. Veronica's disillusionment wasn't something she could understand. From what she knew of Elijah, Veronica worshipped the ground he walked on. Words like mentor, genius, visionary filled her memory, but what she'd seen so far only spoke of madness.

"We should keep moving," she said instead, and Veronica looked away.

"Yeah."

There were some medical supplies that they gathered before leaving, and Riley found a black suit of some sort that she stuffed into her bag without much thought. She checked her Pip-Boy once they were back in the hall.

"Getting a life reading down this way," she said, and they started down an adjacent hallway. Their collars started beeping after a few steps, and they backed up frantically, eyes scanning. She spotted a speaker at the end of the hall, and lifted her gun.

"Veronica," a man's disembodied voice echoed through the building. Riley glanced at her, brow raised. Veronica mouthed the name 'Elijah' and she nodded, face grim. "I'm getting a signature reading from your friend's Pip-Boy. The speaker down the hall is protected from all damage. You'll need to find another way to power it down."

"We found the bodies," Veronica said, her tone filled with accusation. "What—"

"I know what you found. I've been listening in. Checking in on your progress, which is not as far as I expected. You need to focus on your task, Veronica," he snapped, his tone the impatient brusqueness of an irritated teacher. Irritation flashed across Veronica's face. "Christine isn't important, but I know trying to dissuade you at this point isn't going to work. Find her if you must. Your answers will have to wait until you find _me_. Don't forget whose side you're on." Silence. Riley raised her eyebrows at Veronica, and they turned to leave.

"Oh," Elijah's voice came back on. "And there's a security hologram on the second floor. Try not to die."

* * *

"So what's with the interest in the girl?" The ghoul asked. Boone didn't look up from where he sat on the couch, the parts of the rifle Riley had scavenged laid out on the coffee table in front of him. Cass moved around the apartment with brisk strides as she foraged for anything useful they could take with them. Boone made it clear to her that they probably wouldn't be returning, and she was amassing a neat pile of assorted items on the kitchen table that earned a considerable glance of approval anytime Boone looked up to check on her progress.

"The silent treatment, eh? You could at least give me some conversation. Or one of those magazines. A glass of wine, perhaps. A nice steak dinner." He let his head fall to one side, watching as Cass stalked past him with an empty duffel bag. "My dear girl, where's the fire? Relax, sit down. Have a nice spot of conversation. They might be a while and I hate to say it but you're not exactly the most hospitable of hosts." The ghoul sniffed disdainfully. "I've had better."

Cass sighed, dropping the bag on the kitchen counter. She crossed the room, ignoring Boone's questioning quirk of his brow, and crouched before the ghoul with a forced smile.

"The girl's name is Christine, and right now she's more important than you are, handsome, so I'd watch your mouth."

"I was merely wondering," he drawled, shrugging one well-dressed shoulder. "Trying to figure out everyone's parts, as it were. Who plays what? The hero, the sidekick. The damsel? Wondering where the girl fits in your little entourage seeing as you all just got here." He articulated every word, every syllable carefully and slowly spoken in that strange accent of his. It seemed to Cass, that there wasn't much about him that _wasn't _already carefully planned out.

"Let me ask _you _something. What's _your _deal with her?" She asked, arms folded over her knees. "Why did you take her and not Veronica?"

"Veronica. Is that the pretty brunette?" He looked over at Boone, still ignoring them. "I must say, my boy, you did a nice job of grabbing a diverse ensemble of women. Redhead, brunette, blonde. Even grabbed a bald one to spice it all up."

Boone ignored him.

"But you all follow the blonde one," the ghoul went on. Cass watched him carefully. "Why, I wonder? She is an eyeful, I'll give you that, and I didn't even get to look very long. The legs on her, good gracious," he chuckled. "She'd put Vera to shame, and trust me, that's a compliment. I'd like to see how she fills out something other than that ghastly suit you're all forced to wear."

"Shut him up, Cass," Boone said. The ghoul smiled slowly.

"Touched a nerve, did I? What is she to you? Lover? Wife?" He tilted his head, watching as Boone methodically used a rag to clean one of the smaller pieces of the rifle. "No, I wager not. Not enough emotion for something that… involved. Or are you just that cold?"

"Hey," Cass snapped her fingers in front of his face and he turned his gaze back to her, glaring disdainfully. "I'm talking here. Why'd you grab Christine?"

He sat back in his chair, head tilted to one side, that slow smile creeping back on his face. He had all the air of someone comfortably and fully in control of a bad situation, and Cass didn't trust him one bit.

Boone lifted one of the rifle parts closer to his eye for inspection. "Leave him alone, Cass. Wait 'til Riley gets back."

"No, I wanna know." Cass glanced over at Boone. "He doesn't _seem_ stupid—"

"My current situation non-withstanding."

"—and picking Christine over Veronica is smart because Veronica would have _probably_ taken your head off, but you wouldn't know that."

He scoffed. "Oh, you give the girl far too little credit. Christine, was it? I've been tracking her all week since she got here, and she's more than capable of taking care of herself. My window of opportunity for grabbing her safely was very small, believe me."

"And you, what?" she tilted her head. "Were lonely for a little company? Had a hankering for some action? Pecker tired of the ol' five knuckle shuffle?"

Boone sighed.

The ghoul eyed her critically. "You've got quite the mouth on you, my dear."

"Been talking to my dates?" She leered. "Didn't answer my question."

"No," he said, drawing out the word. "I didn't."

There was a brief moment of silence, punctuated only by Boone sliding rifle parts in place with a practised hand.

"Maybe," Cass said, pushing herself to her feet. She leaned over so that her hands rested on the ghoul's legs. "You tell me what's up, and we might see about letting you go."

His eyes wandered down the front of her, a slow appreciative smile forming on his lips. "My dear, I am many things, but _gullible_ isn't one of them. And pretty as you are, you're not the one I need to bargain with. No, no," he chuckled. "I think I'll wait for the leggy blonde."

"Last time I saw her, she had a gun to your head," Cass reminded him. His smile fell.

"I'll take my chances."

"Suit yourself." She pushed away from him, adjusting her suit as she walked away and plopped down next to Boone. "You want a go with him?"

He lifted his eyes to hers briefly, sliding the trigger assembly into place. "No."

She rolled her eyes. "Just go stare at him for a while. That's enough to unnerve anyone." He ignored her, lifting the rifle and snapping one of the magazine cartridges inside. She watched as he turned the weapon over in his hands, inspecting it. "Will it work now?"

"Should." He set it down on the table.

Cass eyed him. "You seem tense."

Silence. Cass drummed her fingers on her arm.

"And I can't believe I'm saying this but you're usually more talkative than this."

He sighed, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose. "I don't like sitting around. Wastes time. That and I have a headache." He closed his eyes briefly before looking over at her. "How's your arm?"

She blinked. "It's fine. Look. What do you think we should do? Kill him and move on?" She quirked a brow at him, because they both knew they couldn't actuallykill him. All they had were empty threats. Boone shook his head.

"Once the girls get back I'd rather just leave him tied to the chair and go. The faster we get moving on this plan the faster we can get out of here."

"Excuse me," the ghoul piped up. "But if I could, I'd like to veto that option. I have unfinished business inside the casino and if that's where you're all headed, you're going to need, well, me."

Cass whirled in her seat, staring at him over the back of the couch. "Are you fucking kidding me? You want us to trust you?"

"Trust? No no, dear girl, no." He laughed brightly. "Show business is cut throat. You don't go tossing around things like _trust _to just anyone_. _What I have is easier to understand, especially for your kind." He smiled thinly. "Motive."

Beside her, Boone shifted slightly.

"Motive?" Cass lifted a hand, swiping hair from her eyes and tucking it behind her ear. "What, you want the treasure in the casino?"

"Well, it wouldn't _hurt, _but no. What I want is ultimately far more satisfying, and none of your business." He leaned forward, rolling his shoulders from side to side. "Which one of you tied these knots, by the way? I wasn't paying attention but I'll admit being impressed by the lack of circulation to my extremities. But really, think about it. I'm the only one who knows how to get into that vault, so it really would benefit everyone if you took me along, don't you think?"

Cass turned back in her seat, resting her elbows on her knees. She glanced at Boone, teeth working hard on the nail on her thumb.

"Well?"

He shrugged, one slow lift of his shoulders that said he could care less. "Wait until Riley gets back. She can decide."

"Why can't we decide?"

He sighed. "Let's just wait so everyone's on the same page."

She nodded. "Alright, fine. That makes sense. Can I just ask why you defer all the decision-making to Riley?" She lifted her brows. "Not that it's any of my business. Every group has to have a leader, right? But uh, aren't you the one with more military experience?"

He said nothing for a moment, hands folded tightly in front of him as he stared hard at nothing in particular. Then he stood. "You should rest up. Try and catch some sleep. I'll keep an eye on him."

The ghoul made a disparaging noise in the back of his throat. "Oh," he said. "Goodie."

"That's your subtle way of telling me to shut up, isn't it?" Cass sighed, throwing her hands up in surrender and pushing herself to her feet. "Fine. I can take a hint. I'll be upstairs."

—


	28. Peacefully falling away

**Author's Note**: _I don't know what to say about this one. I know where it's going, but I'm not exactly happy with it either. I wanted it to be longer to make up for not updating last week but this is as far as I got. There were things I wanted to do, places I wanted to go! Alas. Also reviews make me happy, so feel free to leave one! Thanks for reading!_

* * *

There wasn't much they could do once they managed to get to the auto-doc Christine was in. Getting there was easy enough; they didn't even need to go upstairs like Elijah implied. They found the door to the basement and Riley worked her magic on the lock. From there it was a simple matter of flipping the proverbial switch that cut the power to the speakers and they were in business.

Except for one minor detail.

"She's mid-procedure," Veronica frowned, running her fingers over an array of buttons. Graphs and charts popped up on the little green screen and Riley waited while Veronica took them in. Her expression fell from hopeful, to confused, to bewildered, and Riley wondered what she was seeing.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. I don't— I don't get it. What sort of procedure did he put her through?" Veronica frowned as she ran through the charts again. She didn't look any more enlightened, however. "Whatever's being done to her, it's not routine. He had to do an executive override to access this."

"Is that hard?"

"If he's got the clearance? No."

"Maybe he has the clearance?"

Veronica stepped away from the machine, frustrated. "Doesn't matter. It's too risky to stop it now and I'm not sure overriding it would be too smart."

"But you _can _override it, right?"

Veronica looked seriously offended. "You even have to ask?"

She held up her hands. "Sorry. So what's it doing to her?"

"Well," Veronica hedged. "It's gathering data for the next step in the operation. We still have three hours before it's done."

Three hours? That presented a small issue. But one thing at a time. "What's the next step in the operation?"

"Maybe that's misleading. It's two separate operations. It's stupid and inefficient and—" She turned to face Riley, brows drawn pensively. "And it doesn't matter. If you wanna go back to the others, I can wait here. You guys can go get the next collar."

Riley gaped at her. Was she being serious? She thought about being out in those streets _alone _and the thought honestly terrified her. "Ron, I'm not—"

"No, it'd be smart. No sense in us waiting around when there's things to be done, right?" She smiled, but it lacked her usual vibrancy. "When she's done, we can meet you at the fountain, okay?" Riley frowned at her doubtfully. "You know the way back," Veronica continued. "And Boone said not to take long, so—"

Riley held up a hand. "Let's just cut to the part where I say I'm not leaving because we both know splitting up at this point is not a good idea."

Veronica gave a small sputtering noise from the back of her throat. "But—"

"I'm not going anywhere. That's final. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Good." Riley stepped back, wondering what the hell they were going to do for three hours. Was there a way to get a message to the others? Doubtful. She'd have to make do with what they had here. "I'm going to take a look around, see what else I can scrounge up." She looked at her. "You'll be okay in here?"

"Yeah," Veronica nodded. She tucked her hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture. "Yeah, just, um. Stay close. Don't wander too far."

Riley nodded and left, taking brisk strides down the corridor. They hadn't been upstairs yet, she could start there. She needed to think, to sort things out. Something wasn't right here, and she wasn't sure where to start dissecting things so she could pinpoint the problem. The problem _beyond _this entire situation which was just a clusterfuck of insanity as far as she was concerned.

Elijah had his motives, she reasoned as she rounded the first corner. Elijah was Brotherhood. It was easy, even for her, to see what he wanted. Technology, knowledge, security. Whatever was in the casino, treasure or not, had to be important—vital even—for him to resort to these methods to obtain it. But the ghoul… his motives were a mystery. She knew nothing about him except what Cass told her after she woke up. And that wasn't much beyond the fact that he was really old (obviously) and in the same situation as they were. Even if all he wanted was the same thing as Elijah, where did Christine factor in? What was his angle here?

She slowed as she neared the room with the headless corpses, her thoughts fading as she caught sight of the bloody mess on one of the examination tables. A light flickered, casting an eerie light across the body and she tugged yet again on the metal cage around her neck. She didn't want to think about that. She wasn't going to give in to this anxiety and she refused to let it interfere with her getting them out of this hellhole.

But the smell of the corpses mingled with the already musty odour of copper in the air. She smelled blood and she saw blood, and suddenly the constant hum of the generators was too loud in her ears. She heard white noise and then a ringing that wouldn't shake. Her breathing turned panicked, quick sharp intakes of metallic air. The buzzing from the fluorescent lighting above her started to make her itch and she found herself stumbling down the hall, not really paying attention to where she was going. The walls of the hallway were suddenly too close. The instinct to get out was crawling up on her, and it was only when she stubbed her toe painfully on a desk did she snap out of it, hopping and wincing in a small circle as she cursed the inanimate object that wounded her.

She looked around her. Red carpet, dingy lighting. The door loomed darkly ahead of her and she realised she was in the reception area.

What was she doing? She shook herself, leaning on the dusty counter while her toe throbbed. Panic attack. A small one, but it was something she didn't need. She used to have them frequently, in the first few weeks after her escape from Cottonwood. The smallest things would set her off. Someone standing too close, the way a stranger would look at her, dogs barking.

She'd worked through that. Or thought she did. It had been close to six months since her last attack and now…

She scowled in the dim light. It was the collar. It was this place. It was the constant feeling of choking on her own air and the smell of copper and blood in every crevice.

She had to get it together. She couldn't be a liability, but since it was a possibility, she needed to talk to Boone. Veronica had enough on her plate as it was, she didn't have the same connection with Cass yet. Boone had proven loyal and trustworthy, and she knew without a doubt that he would have her back if she told him this.

Even as she thought it, a loud noise jerked her upright, the sound of something hard being thrown against the door. Her arm snapped up as she whirled around, gun cocked and ready. She didn't blink, just took quick breaths through her nose as she looked around, thinking she imagined it as part of her panic attack—or the start of a new one.

_Bang! _

The door shook on its hinges this time and she swallowed hard.

That… that was not good.

She took a slow, cautious step back, arm outstretched behind her. Her fingers brushed on something in the dust on the desk. She picked it up, hoping for a box of ammo. It was a holotape.

_Bang_! This time, a hoarse breathing could be heard coming from the other side of the door, a rattling intake of breath that chilled her bones.

That was enough. She tossed the holotape into her bag without a second thought and backed up down the hall. The door rattled dangerously again and she took it as a sign to pick up the pace, turning and booking it full speed down through the corridors. Veronica met her outside the room to Christine's auto-doc, and watched with raised eyebrows as Riley skidded to a halt.

"What's going on?" she asked, and Riley ushered her back into the room. She pointed at the auto-doc, face frenzied.

"Override it."

Veronica faltered, torn between obeying and not. "What—"

"We have to go. Now," Riley glanced pensively at the hall as more banging echoed throughout the building.

"If they're ghost people can't we just stand and fight?" Veronica's voice rose. "I don't think we should bring Christine out of this just now."

"You said she was in between procedures, right?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Is she being operated on right now?"

"No, she's just under anaesthetic. What—"

Riley grabbed Veronica and dragged her the last three steps to the metal contraption containing her ex-girlfriend, jaw set and eyes serious. "I have five shots left in this handgun and a handful of shells for the shotgun," she said quietly. "I can't shoot in closed quarters if you're up close fighting and if you stand back you're useless. I don't know how many are out there and if we run I don't know how we'll get back without more ammo, now _override _the god damn programming and let's get the hell out of here."

Veronica clenched her jaw, gave a frustrated growl, and turned to the screen, fingers already flying over the keys. Riley moved to the door, keeping an eye on the hall while she worked.

The noises continued. Far too much to be made by one monster. Did they follow them here? Did the noise caused by Riley's gun taking out the various speakers draw them to the clinic? She didn't know. Didn't have time to figure it out. All she knew was they had to get out.

"She'll be unconscious," Veronica said as the door hissed open behind her. Riley turned back, ignoring the blast of cold air that blew into her face, the icy smoke that blurred her vision. A small woman hung, suspended by machinery. Various medical instruments poised deadly in the air around her, and Veronica rushed to pull her down, Riley helping.

The girl was incredibly light. Even still, unconscious she was dead weight. A liability. Vulnerable.

Riley didn't care.

"Can you manage her?" she asked. In response, Veronica hoisted Christine over her shoulders, fireman style. Riley nodded. "Okay. Stay close, and let me know if you need to switch off."

They moved down the hallway quickly, Riley taking point. She kept the sidearm she took from the ghoul out and ready. Noise was everywhere now, that ghostly rasping echoing off the walls. They were inside. How were they going to get out? She hadn't thought this through enough, but staying wasn't an option either.

As they neared the room with the headless corpses, Riley motioned for Veronica to hold her position. She moved forward alone, each step slow and quiet, one foot in front of the other, weapon drawn, breath steady. She paused at the corner, back against the wall, and quickly peaked around to the right to see the reception area.

Her heart rate jumped at what she saw. At least five had made it inside. The door was broken down, the dim light streaming in from outside along with the deadly bitterness of the Cloud. They were wobbling as they walked, unnatural abominations that shouldn't be alive. Spears were strapped to their backs, but one of them held something that made Riley's blood go cold.

She backed up slowly, eyes wide. When she turned around, Veronica looked at her quizzically.

'_Bomb' _she mouthed, and Veronica's mouth fell open. There was no doubt now that grabbing Christine was the right option. A thrown gas bomb in a place like this could cut her off from them completely.

Riley lifted a finger to her lips, and they stepped out into the hall and turned left, walking backwards down the corridor to where the stairs were. Riley hoped the second floor had windows, or _something _that could help them get out of this mess. The ghost people milling in the reception area hadn't noticed them, the dim lighting concealing them in shadows, and their hopes were buoyed. Maybe they could make it without being seen.

A discarded med-x vial was their downfall, cracking under Veronica's boot. The noise might as well have been a bleating trumpet, appearing in a brief moment of absolute silence as they crept away from the creatures. They froze, eyes on the doorway at the end of the hall, and when the first ghost person turned to look in their direction they found life again.

"Run," Riley hissed. Veronica jerked in place, and Riley yanked on her arm. "_Run."_

They ran, racing down the hallway until they came to the end and the stairs leading both to the second floor and the basement. They veered to the right, their pace quickening as an explosion shook the building, throwing them against a wall. The gas bomb. Drywall and paint fell around them in an ashen rain, and the lights flickered ominously. But their path remained open and they were still alive, though she doubted the medical clinic could withstand another one of those. They needed to hurry.

They took the steps two at a time, and Riley could hear Veronica breathing heavily behind her. She worried that the added weight of Christine would slow her down, but they had no time to think about it as they stumbled to the top of the stairs.

The second floor was another long hallway. Doors on each side led to various offices. A hologram patrolled the corridor, and Riley didn't think as they ran right towards it…

Until it turned yellow, then red. Red was never good. She skidded to a halt on instinct, grabbed Veronica and hauled her into one of the offices just as it started firing energy beams at them. The noise would attract the ghost people faster, and she winced as she slammed the door behind them. She turned on her Pip-Boy light, casting the room in a greenish glow. Riley could see a desk sitting in the middle of the room, filing cabinets and an overturned book case lined the walls. Piles of garbage were collecting in the corners, and still she couldn't shake the smell of blood.

And there were no windows.

"What do we do?" Veronica hissed.

"Behind the desk," Riley whispered. Veronica set Christine down, leaning her gently against the cabinet doors. She rolled her shoulders, stretched her arms, and Riley strained to hear through the door. Could the hologram open doors? Could it _walk through _doors? The firing had stopped, and in its place that creepy rattling breath came closer with each passing second. It was almost a constant noise, and the rate at which it moved alarmed her. But if those things came up here…

She could hear the security hologram firing. A cacophony of noise sounded through the door as the battle played out outside, and Riley wished she could see what was going on. Instead, she huddled behind the rusting desk with Veronica and watched as shadows leapt across the glass of the door.

But the rattling gasping breaths were dying off, heavy thuds sounded in the hallway as bodies hit the floor and Riley was sure the hologram had done its work.

Now the only problem was getting past it themselves.

"Wait here," she whispered, moving forward from her crouch.

"It's a hologram, it can't hear you," Veronica said quietly.

"Ghost people," Riley replied. "Could be more of them." She crept up to the door, waiting until the blue light from the hologram passed before cracking the door open and peeking outside. Bodies lay scattered across the hall, a pinkish goo splattered across the walls, the tool cabinets, doors to the other offices. Riley swallowed and glanced down the hallway, checking the hologram's position. It walked straight, ignoring each room as it patrolled a set path. She had to hedge back twice into the room as it turned at each end of the hallway, but she gathered what she needed to know.

They moved room to room, criss-crossing back and forth across the hall, slowly but surely making their way to the other end, hearts pounding the entire time. Riley stepped gingerly over a ghost person corpse and couldn't control the shout of surprise when it gave a gurgling breath and lurched back into a sitting position. She backed up against a wall, eyes wide as it wobbled back to its feet. Her usual reflex of perhaps _shooting _the monster that was coming for her was somewhat dampened by the fact that this was _not _natural, and instead she stood frozen, transfixed, until she felt Veronica's hand grip her sleeve, and she was dragged into a room.

"Remember," Veronica hissed as the hologram started up again outside. She had to strain to hear Veronica over the noise. "You want it to stay dead, take off its head."

"We don't have _time _for that," Riley whispered. More banging could be heard from the floor below them and she laughed softly. This was so fucked up. "Case in point."

"How do we get out?" Veronica asked, shifting Christine's weight across her shoulders. "We can't keep hiding. One of them will make it through eventually."

A _thud _from outside the door signalled the fall of the resurrected monster, and Riley spared Veronica a look. "We keep moving. Come on."

They made it to the end of the hallway, noting gratefully that it veered into a side corridor. They followed the short path, and came to a door that led outside into a courtyard with a dying tree. They paused, almost not believing their eyes, and it took Riley a second to register that they didn't close the door behind them. She did, joining Veronica in taking a look around. A sign hung on the far side reading 'Gift shop'.

"Smell that poisonous air," Veronica murmured, eyes wide and doubtful. "We have to get back to the others."

Riley raised her gun, taking out the speaker hanging above the gift shop, and jerked her head. "Let's go."


	29. I am the zombie

**Author's Note: **_This got way longer than it was meant to be. But I'm okay with that. This was actually how far I wanted to get in the last chapter, but looking at the word count, uh... that would have been a bloody monster of a chapter. Thank you for reading! You're all the tops!_

* * *

The night was quiet. Silence filled the streets, soft and yet somehow still deafening in its absolution. To Boone, it was both a comfort and a worry, peaceful and yet a constant reminder of the situation they were in. A dead city. The sounds of the Mojave were miles away, no coyotes howling in the middle of the night, no rustling hush of wind through the desert grass and sand. The only sound to break the lull was the occasional gunshot echoing off the villa walls, sporadic clues that Riley and Veronica were making progress.

The ghoul had long been quiet, thankfully. His last attempt at conversation had risen and died in quick succession as Boone maintained his cold-shoulder approach to the man. It wasn't that he had no interest in what the ghoul had to say—he was sure he had plenty of information that would be useful to them if he so chose to give it—Boone simply didn't trust him.

He counted the minutes to pass the time. Over twenty had come and gone since Cass went upstairs. Had to be close to an hour now since Riley left.

He told her no detours. What was taking so long?

Even as he thought it, something sounded in the streets, soft and distant, like a howling, and Boone frowned, unsure if he heard it at all. He stood, moving to the window and pushing the curtain aside so he could peer through the cracks in the wood panels.

"Hear something, old boy?" The ghoul asked from behind him. Boone scanned the streets, but he saw nothing through the red haze. He let the curtain fall and stepped away from the window.

But that howling came again and he froze. It wasn't the wind. It was… wrong somehow. Unnatural, inhuman, and reminded him of the raspy breathing of the ghost people. Could a group of them make that sound? A ghostly chorus?

"I'd turn that light off, if I were you."

Boone turned. The ghoul was where he left him, but he was different, changed. His posture less relaxed, his face no longer had that sneering condescending air to it. Instead he sat rigid in his chair, his shoulders up, legs tense. Something had him on edge.

"Why?"

"You hear it, don't you?" he spoke in hushed tones. Footsteps on the stairs announced Cass' reappearance, and Boone glanced up to see her wide-eyed and confused. "They're on the hunt, now. Don't want to be the ones who have their attention, you can _trust me_ on that one. And I was serious about turning off that light."

Boone glanced at the fission battery-lit lamp sitting on the coffee table, but he didn't have to move. Cass got there first, flicking the switch and plunging them into total darkness.

"What now?" she whispered.

"Now," the ghoul said. "We pray they don't find us."

"How many of them are there?" Boone asked. The howling rose again, and this time the sound of things falling over, bottles breaking, doors being broken down, joined the eerie disjointed din.

"To make _that_ noise? You don't want to know. I've only heard them make that noise a few times in all my years here. Rare to get them all riled up like this. I hid every single time. I've seen what they do to their victims, the unlucky ones who got caught." He had their attention now, Boone thought. A rapt audience.

"What do they do?" Cass asked.

"They drag them into the Cloud."

"And then?"

The ghoul didn't answer, and Cass laughed darkly in the resulting silence. "Christ, I am not drunk enough for this shit."

"We have bigger problems," Boone said quietly. He turned back to the window, pulling the drapes back to look outside again. The streets looked more menacing now, the red haze more ominous than it already was. He half-expected a swarm of them to come stalking around the corner any second. "If they're after something, it's probably Riley."

"Figured that out, did you?" said the ghoul. "Just leave her. If they have the attention of the horde, they won't last long and you _don't_ want that attention turned on you."

"That's not how we do things," Boone snapped over his shoulder.

"No? Maybe you should. The others certainly did. All for one and one for all? Sounds nice. But here it's every man for themselves."

Boone moved closer to the window. Overhead, thunder began to rumble over the drone of their cries. But he could swear it was getting louder, closer.

"I think they're coming this way," he murmured.

"What?" Cass rushed to his side, peering out into the street.

"Morons," spat the ghoul. "They'll drag us down with them."

Boone made an annoyed growl in the back of his throat. He moved back to the light and flipped it on. Cass shielded her eyes from the sudden glare.

"Hey, uh," the ghoul's tone made it seem as if Boone was handling a ticking time bomb. "You _might _want to keep that off. Like I said—"

"I heard you the first time," Boone said. He jerked his chin at Cass. "Pack what we have. We're moving out once they get here."

They didn't have to wait long. No sooner had Cass started shoving the various boxes of food and water into a duffel bag than the door swung open and Riley hurried into the room, a girl draped over her shoulders. Veronica followed behind, closing the door and carrying Riley's bag.

"'Bout time you showed up," Cass greeted them, tossing in a box of cram. "You alert half the damn city?"

Riley shot her a glare as she moved across the room.

"What happened?" Boone moved to help Riley deposit the girl onto the couch. "Is this her?"

"Yeah," Riley gasped. She was doubled over now that she was free from the weight, trying to catch her breath. Boone knelt, checking the girl's pulse, which was steady but low. "Don't know what happened. They swarmed the clinic. We had to think fast."

"_Why_ is she unconscious?" The ghoul sounded angry. "Did you interrupt the procedure?"

"We had to think fast," Riley repeated, still gasping for air. "Had bombs. No time. I think the gunfire attracted them."

"I overrode the programming," Veronica said, almost as an afterthought. The ghoul grumbled something that none of them could understand, and Boone stood back up. Veronica took his place at Christine's side, and he turned to face Riley.

"How many?"

"Don't know. No time. Not enough ammo to stand a chance. Keep getting back up. No time." She was close to hyperventilating now and Boone frowned. He recognised the oncoming signs of panic and he forced her over to a chair, gave her a little shove and she fell onto it with no resistance.

"Head between your knees. Breathe through it," he ordered.

"No time," she said again, but it was low and breathy. She lifted her hands to her hair, tangled her fingers in the blond locks to keep her hands from shaking. "No time."

"Breathe," he said again. "One breath at a time. Hey," he knelt in front of her, snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Look at me." She lifted her head and met his gaze, eyes wide. "Snap out of it and focus."

She nodded, taking a deep breath. Thunder crackled above them, making her tense. "I know. I just—" she shook her head, took another breath and let her hands fall. "There's no time. We lost them a few blocks back, but this place isn't safe. We need to move."

"One step ahead of you," Cass appeared, dropping the duffel at their feet. "We're ready."

Riley bent to grab the straps of the bag, but Boone grabbed her wrist. "You're exhausted," he said, grabbing the bag with his other hand. "I'll take it." Her mouth pulled back tightly, like it always did when something interfered with her plans, but she didn't argue. He stood, hefting the bag over one shoulder. He looked down at the unconscious girl sprawled out on the couch, wondering how they were going to handle her.

"What about her?" Cass whispered, voicing his thoughts.

"I'll take her," Veronica murmured. "Riley took over a few blocks back, I'm rested."

Boone doubted that, remembering her feeble struggles when he first found her. She'd been here longer, breathed this toxic air more than all of them. If anyone would be falling first, it would be Veronica. But the determined look in her eye as she lifted Christine kept him quiet, and he merely nodded at her.

He understood what it felt like to be willing to do anything for someone you loved.

Riley stood, her eyes clearer and her breathing steady. Everyone moved with her towards the door, stopping abruptly when she moved to untie the ghoul.

"Uh," said Cass. "What are you doing?"

"Taking him with us."

"Why?"

Riley flicked her eyes up once as she freed his legs. "You know why," she muttered, moving behind him. Boone had to admire her ability to keep her head and not give away their only hold over the ghoul. He still had no idea that his life was bound to theirs. Yes, it made him more dangerous because he was under the impression they could be killed like anyone else, but it also made their threats actually credible. The last of his binds fell to the floor and he stood, stretching and rubbing at his wrists while everyone stood by, dumbfounded.

"Well," he said, lifting his chin and meticulously adjusting the bow tie beneath the bomb collar. _"Not_ that I'm not grateful, but I have to agree with your pretty friend. Why?"

Riley sighed, exasperated. "I can tie you back up, you know."

"Point taken. Ladies first." He made a sweeping gesture with his arm.

She shook her head and gestured with the gun in her hand. "Don't think so. You lead. You've lived here longer, you know the city better than any of us. Take us some place safe and we'll work out what to do next."

"Riley," Cass hissed, she looked over her shoulder anxiously towards the door. The noise outside was growing. "We can't trust him."

"If he wants to live, he'll do it," Riley snapped quietly. "He has no weapon. We're his best chance of defence. Now," she looked at the ghoul. "Do we have a deal?"

He tilted his head ever-so-slightly. "We talk terms when we're safe, yes? There are… stipulations that must be agreed upon."

"Done." Riley nodded once, and Cass gaped at her. "Lead on. Somewhere defendable. We need weapons, more ammo."

"Not enough ammo in the entire villa to take out the entire horde," he said with a cocked brow. "But… I think I know just the place."

They moved out of the house in single file, following his lead. He led them down the street, going west while the city walls echoed with the moans of the ghostly inhabitants. Boone kept his eyes on the ghoul. Like Cass, he wasn't willing to give the ghoul any sort of leeway, but he trusted Riley's decision. After all, if they left him there and the horde found him, they would all be dead.

Didn't mean he wouldn't try and stab them in the back or give them the slip, however, and in the interest of self-preservation he kept his eyes glued to that suit.

Amazingly, the ghoul managed to weave them through routes that held no radios. The crawling clamour became more distant as they ducked through alleys and filed through gates and archways, giving them hope that they'd escaped the horde. Finally, after what seemed like hours of running and passing Christine around to give each other rest, he stopped them by a weathered blue door. A sign flickered above them—Police—and on the wall next to the door were words scrawled in a childlike hand.

_Find God in the simplest of beasts._

He opened the door for them, ushering them in quickly. Boone waited to be last, eyes on the streets behind them, before grabbing the ghoul by the elbow and hauling him in with him, not willing to give him the chance to escape.

He jerked out of his grip once they were inside.

"Watch the hands, if you would be so kind," he said quietly, adjusting his suit. Boone spared him a dark look.

Veronica was already setting Christine down in one of the many chairs lined up along the wall. In the middle of the room, a large prison cell was awash in dim light. Several terminals hummed from the desks, but besides that, there was another noise that filtered through the air. A garbled warbling that warned of radios.

"We need to barricade the door," said Boone, moving to one of the desks. He stopped as his collar started to beep, taking those few cautious steps back. He exchanged frowns with Riley.

"Turn the noise off," groaned a voice, and they all stilled, eyes straying to the hulking blue form rocking slowly in the middle of the cell.

"Noise makes my stomach hurt," it said. "So hungry."

"That," Riley said slowly. "Is a nightkin."

"One of the collars," Boone murmured to her, and she took a bracing breath.

"God dammit." Riley raised her gun, aiming at the closest radio when the ghoul cleared his throat.

"Not to be a negative Nancy, but isn't that what got us into this mess? Maybe we should try oh, the manual approach. Quietly. Don't want to attract the horde."

Boone could see Riley battle with the logic internally, her face contorting between various expressions, but eventually her arm dropped and the gun's safety put back into place.

"Fine."

They set about disarming the radios, dashing out from their safe zone and back as they hunted down each one. There were four altogether, and by the time they found them all their nerves were on edge. But they weren't done yet, there was still the matter of the door and horde on the other side of it. They didn't know if they were safe or not, and needed time to come up with a plan. Together, Boone and Riley grabbed a desk, one without a terminal, and hauled it over to the door, propping it up snuggly against the faded blue wood. Riley dusted her hands off as they stood back to inspect their work.

Boone had to admit it looked pretty flimsy.

"Best we can do, I guess," Riley sighed, turning. They gathered near the door to the cell, giving it a berth of a few feet while they each willed the other to be the one to open it.

"The old man's servant," the ghoul told them. "Seen him around, dragging tourists into the villa. He eats some of them, you know."

Cass swore.

"The old man said he'd take orders," Boone remembered. "Could cooperate."

"Let me out. I'll be good, I promise," the mutant moaned. Boone was reminded of a child begging for sweets. A minute passed with none of them moving before Riley approached the door slowly. She tugged at the door, and when it didn't budge, dropped into a crouch to peer at the lock. She spent a minute trying to pick it but eventually she gave up on that when her last bobby pin snapped in half.

"Well, we need a key."

"Dog will be good. Master… help me, please."

Riley gnawed on her lip. "Dog?" She tried. "Is that your name?"

"Not Master," the mutant said petulantly. "Go away."

"I can take you to Master," she said, her voice soft. "I'm going to meet him."

The mutant shuffled his feet around so that he was half-turned towards them. His face was mangled like the rest of his body, scars marked his skin and a heavy chain laid around his neck.

A chain, Boone noted. Not a collar.

"Really?"

Riley nodded. "I want to let you out. Do you know where the key is? Then we can find your Master."

"You know," Cass whispered. "I don't think we should let him out if he goes around _eating people_." Boone couldn't help but agree.

"Dog hungry," the nightkin sulked. "Dog want out."

"The key, Dog. Where is the key to the cell?" Riley tried again.

"Dog don't know. Dog woke up here. He put me in here, doesn't want Dog to find Master."

Everyone exchanged looks, frowns and various expressions of confusion.

"He who?" Riley tried. "The ghoul?"

"Excuse me," said the ghoul. "I'm right here. And believe me, I wouldn't go near that thing with a ten foot pole. I still value my limbs."

"Let me out," the mutant whined. "Please? Dog want to see Master."

Riley blew out a breath and stepped back. "He's not going to be any help. Let's just try and find a key."

"I'm staying with Christine," Veronica said, her tone full of apology. "I'm sorry, but if she wakes up I don't want her alone."

Riley nodded. "That's fine. You can check this room. The rest of us can spread out, check the rest of the building."

"I'll take the lunch room," the ghoul offered, turning around. The lunch room, Boone remembered, was where the back exit was. He slapped a hand on the ghoul's shoulder, stopping him.

"I don't think so. You're coming with me," he said. "Need to keep an eye on you." He glanced over at Riley. "You'll be okay?"

She hesitated a brief second before answering. "Yeah. Yeah, one of us should watch him. Cass and I will be okay."

He nodded at her. Cass was already moving towards the hall on the right, and Boone watched Riley retreat to the hall on their left where the last radio was found. Once she was out of sight, the ghoul clucked his tongue once.

"Like I said," he drawled. "The legs on that one would put Vera to shame."

Boone's scowl deepened, and he shoved him towards the lunch room. "Get moving."

* * *

She found no key in any of the cells lining the hallway, not that she would have expected a key to be found _in _a cell, but it was worth a look. The desk and the cabinets held nothing either. She did find a few bottles of water, liquor, and a dusty magazine. But no key.

She found herself standing at the top of the stairs leading to the basement. It was dark and ominous, the shadows oppressing and uninviting. She almost wanted to go find Boone or Cass, and have them go down with her, but pride held her where she was. She could admit to the panic attacks because of the collar, because that was justified. But fear of the dark was something else entirely, and embarrassing considering it wasn't something she normally entertained. Ever. She was a sniper, and the dark was supposed to be an ally.

But this place made everything seem threatening, even the familiar.

She flicked on her Pip-Boy light and descended slowly, each step a defiant stance in the face of her fear. She paused only briefly at the door to the basement, and once the door was open, forced herself to pass through.

She came back up some time later, a holotape in her hand, and more confused than ever as she rejoined everyone in the main lobby.

"Did you find it?" Boone asked.

"No," she said carefully. "But I found this." She held up the disc. "I think I'm supposed to play it to the nightkin."

"Why do you think that?" Veronica frowned.

"The uh… voice… told me to."

Everyone stared.

"I swear to god," she held up her hands. "I am not making this up." She looked around. "Where's Cass?"

They jolted as a ringing sounded from outside. A warning bell, loud enough to call attention to the horde. It rang in cycles, a continuous chiming that pulsed like a heartbeat. Riley felt her back go up, and a loud string of curses that sounded like Cass came from down the hallway. They jumped to action, rushing down the darkened corridor until they found the room she was in. She was standing over a terminal, one hand tangled in her hair and the other banging furiously on the hood of the screen.

"Stop, stop, stop. Fucking piece of old world trash," she snarled. Veronica shoved her way past them and knocked her aside. She tucked her hair behind her ear and bent at the waist, fingers flying over the keys. The ringing stopped soon enough. Riley released the breath she didn't notice she was holding in the resulting silence. Nobody moved. Seconds ticked by.

"What the _hell?" _Riley turned to Cass. "You just called every god damn one of them to our location!"

"I thought the computer might mention where the key is!" Cass cried. "I didn't fucking think it'd do _that."_

"God dammit," Riley pushed her hair back. "We need to get the mutant out. Now, before they get here." She turned and stalked back to the main lobby. They gathered around the door. Cass looked shaken, but Riley didn't have time to console her. She held up the holotape and pressed 'play'.

"Dog," said the recording. "Back in the cage."

The mutant stood, his back straightened, and he turned towards them, taking them all in. Riley waited, brow raised.

"You're not who I was expecting," Dog said. His voice was steadier, less childlike as he articulated his words carefully. Riley raised a brow.

"Uh. Neither are you."

"Looking for Dog?" The mutant chuckled. "He's in the cage now. You'll have to deal with me."

"What's going on?" Cass whispered behind her.

"My guess? Multi-personality disorder," said Veronica, joining them. "Nightkin exhibit symptoms of schizophrenia from prolonged stealth-boy use."

"Very good," said the mutant. "So you have some intelligence. Or maybe not, seeing as you're _here."_

Veronica looked down guiltily.

"So… who are you?" Riley asked. She glanced at the poorly barricaded door. Did they have time for this?

"I am… Dog's conscience, if you will. The voice of reason so he doesn't hurt himself and others. You can call me God."

God. Yeah. Okay. Sure. Why not?

"Where's your collar?" Boone stepped forward, and the mutant gave a roll of his eyes.

"I can't control what he does when he has me locked away, unfortunately," he sighed. "He ate it, along with its previous owner. Idiot."

There was no denying the absolute tenseness that came over all of them at _that _particular news. Cass took a step back, and the mutant sneered.

"Wise," he said. "Fear is good. You _should _be afraid. Dog is dangerous, and that's why I can't let him out to play. He stays in the cage."

"No argument here," Cass muttered, but Riley frowned and turned to look at Boone. He was the one who spoke to Elijah when they first got here, after all.

"We need him to start the gala thing?" She asked. He shrugged.

"He said we needed four people to do it. But the mutant was necessary."

Riley blinked. "Why?"

"Whatever it is you're planning, leave me out of it," said God. "Dog stays in the cage. It's the only way to keep everyone safe."

"Look. We need to get into the casino," Riley explained. "We get in, and he'll let us go."

"And you believed him?" he scoffed. "Maybe not so intelligent after all."

"I want out of here," she said. "If getting to him gets us out, that's where I go. I need your help."

"Yes," he agreed. "You do. But you're not going to get it."

"Please," she begged. "You brought us here. You—"

"Me?" He cut her off, stepping towards the bars menacingly. She took a step back, out of his reach. "I did nothing. I was helpless, unable to stop Dog when he dragged you from that bunker. You think I _want _to bring people here? You think I enjoy it? Seeing them tear each other apart over their greed? Seeing _him_ tear apart the unlucky ones who happen to be around when his hunger becomes too much?" He tilted his head slightly, his eyes straying across each of them. "The old man says fetch, and Dog fetches. And you, every single one of you that ends up here ends up the same way, like him. I am _not_ helping you."

"I need this collar off," Riley said. Her voice was started to take on a desperate tone. "I want to get out of here. I want—"

"And I want my freedom. I want Dog freed from the clutches of the old man. And I'm not coming out of this cage until the old man comes here himself. We'll settle things when I see _him_, not you."

"He can't," Veronica said quietly. The mutant turned his gaze on her. "He's trapped inside the casino."

He blinked at her. And then he laughed, loud and bitter and long as he threw his head back. Riley cringed, casting a worried glance at the door. Did they even lock it? They should have locked it before throwing the desk against it.

"Perfect. The old man dies in there, and Dog is freed from his leash. I don't have to do anything but wait."

Riley felt her blood go cold. "No. No we can't wait that long. We need to get back home—"

God turned around, retreating back to his corner. "This is home now. Better get used to it."

"What is it we need him for?" Riley asked, barely restrained frustration on the edge of her voice. Behind her, the ghoul sighed wearily.

"The switching station lever is rusted shut. So unless any of you are strong enough to get it to budge, then we're up shit creek without him, I'm afraid."

"Can I talk to the other guy?" Riley called.

"No," said the mutant without turning. "Only the old man's voice can bring him out, and unless you bring him here, I'm afraid it's just me. Too bad for you."

Riley lifted her arm with the Pip-Boy. "I have his voice on this."

He turned. "You wouldn't."

"I would. I want to get out of here," she said quietly. "Trust me, I would."

"Don't—" he stepped towards her. "Don't you dare. I can't control him if I'm in the cage. If you let him out, he'll rip you to shreds, and if he doesn't, I'll find a way out and do it myself."

Riley swallowed. "Then… just help us. And I won't bring him out. You want to talk to Elijah, let's go to him together."

"Together," the nightkin repeated scornfully. "With our leashes. What makes you think I won't kill you once I'm out of here?"

"Because," she glanced over to where the ghoul was standing, leaning against the wall nonchalantly while he smoked a cigarette, watching. She was going to lose her only card up her sleeve when it came to him. "Because," she turned back to the nightkin. "Our collars are linked. If one of us dies, we all die."

"What."

She cringed. The mutant smirked.

"Maybe I'd prefer death to being a tool again."

"No no no," the ghoul interrupted. "No. Let's back up a minute here. What do you mean, the collars are linked?"

Riley gave the mutant an apologetic grimace, lifting a finger to indicate one second as she turned to face the ghoul.

"It means your life is tied to mine. To all of us."

"It means," he said, voice low, "that your threats… are _empty._"

"Yes," she agreed. "And it means we're partners. All of us, we're in this together."

"How _quaint. _You do realise that by keeping this little tidbit of information from me, you endangered us all?"

She glared at him. "Because you were planning to stab us in the back?"

"Well," he hedged, tone defencive. "Not _right away._" He sighed dramatically as they all turned to stare at him. "Alright. Alright. Fine. I guess we're even. _Partner._"

"Great. Can we focus on the problem at hand?" Cass snapped.

"No, by all means," said the nightkin. "This is enlightening."

They were interrupted as something banged against the door, causing them all to jump. They turned as one, eyes wide as the door shook a second time, and Veronica rushed immediately to collect Christine from where she was resting, carrying her back to the group.

"Keep her behind us," Riley told her, checking the ammo in her gun. They'd taken too long, it was too late now to run. And even if they wanted to, they couldn't. Not with God in the cage. Leaving him at the mercy of the horde was a death sentence for all of them.

She resisted taking a step back as the groaning started up outside. She didn't know how much ammo they had left.

Which meant, basically, that they were all screwed.


	30. Your wish will command me

**Author's Note: **_Chapter 30, guys. Holy crap. You guys are the best reviewers ever! Thank you all for reading. This is honestly the longest of anything I've ever written (srsly the word count alone boggles my mind) and I can't thank you guys enough. I'm learning a lot, and I'd like to think I'm improving. But planning each chapter and future events is honestly just really, really, fun. So thanks. :3_

* * *

"Make that barricade stronger," Riley barked. Her heart was pounding, her breath shallow. Sweat beaded on her brow as Cass and Boone moved to comply, grabbing one of the cabinets lining the wall and working together to drag it to the door. They just needed more time. Time to stall so they could get God out of the cell. She turned to Veronica and the ghoul. "We need more ammo, weapons."

"I cleaned this place out years ago," the ghoul sighed. It irked her that he wasn't more frantic, but maybe that was because she was supposed to be the calm one, seeing as she was the one leading them. "You won't find much of anything left. Better to just save a bullet for yourself when the time comes. Unless you can get in _there," _he pointed at a door. Nondescript. Looked like a storage closet. But a computer terminal hummed on a desk next to it, operational. Veronica rushed to the desk.

"Password protected," the ghoul had to raise his voice to be heard over the droning cries of the monsters outside. Veronica finished typing and moved to the door. "Been trying for two hundred years though so I don't think you—" Veronica tugged on the handle. It opened. He stared. Riley grinned. "Oh."

"There's guns," Veronica called. "Ammo, grenades."

"Gear up," Riley ordered, locking eyes with Boone and jerking her head to the side. He nodded, shoving his way through everyone so he could distribute what they had evenly.

"Where's the key to this thing?" Riley turned back to the cell, gripping one of the bars and tugging uselessly. "We have to get you out."

"I told you," God said. "I'm not leaving."

"They will _kill you."_ Riley pointed at the door, shaking underneath the barricade of desks and cabinets. "We can lock you up somewhere else if you want. But we need to get you out of here _now."_

"No," he said, the epitome of calm in everything about him. "You don't."

"We can still fight!"

"Futile. Pointless. You just have to let go. Stop fighting. We die here, the old man never gets out. And it all ends."

She narrowed her eyes. How could he do this? She was under the impression he wanted freedom. How was he supposed to get that if he didn't fight for it?

"Where's the key?" she asked again, voice hard. This time he turned, meeting her gaze with a mocking air. In the dark, his eyes almost seemed to glow, and she jumped involuntarily when the door gave a particularly violent rattle.

"Surely you must realise by now," said God, holding up one clenched, blue hand. "It's in here. With me."

Her heart stopped. "You're going to kill all of us."

"Just saving you time. The Sierra Madre will claim you sooner or later."

This was insane! How was _this _the more intelligent personality? How could he condemn them like this?

Her throat went dry as she realised they were going to die, and there was nothing they could do about it. The mutant smirked at the change in her eyes, turning back around and leaving her to her despair. She barely noticed as Boone rejoined her. He'd dragged the coffee table over to them, flipped it over so they could use it as cover. He dumped ammo boxes at their feet, a few grenades. A rifle was pressed into her hands. She took them in vacantly, doing the math in her head.

"Riley!" he tried calling to her, but she was running the numbers as she turned to see what the others had. Cass was busy loading a shotgun with shells. She fumbled with the box, and a few scattered to the floor, rolling across the shattered tile, hiding in the shadows of the room. The ghoul looked put out as he loaded his weapon. He had a few kitchen knives laid out on the floor beside him. She thought their rusted blades didn't look as threatening as they should have. You could probably catch tetanus from those…

"Riley, head in the game!" Boone snapped. He used his commanding tone. The military voice, the one every soldier should react to. But she was staring at Veronica now, kneeling at Christine's side and pressing a single kiss to her forehead. She whispered something in her ear, something Riley couldn't hear through the noise and her own disjointed presence. But she knew what they had to do.

"Ron," she called, and Veronica pushed herself to her feet, ready to fight. But Riley was shaking her head, face grim. "Get Christine out of here. Take the back door and we'll buy you as much time as we can."

Everyone froze, eyes wide and on her. Even God turned slightly, a curious expression on his face as they all processed what she said. Beside her, Boone bowed his head, resting his forehead against the butt of his gun. It wasn't what he had planned. She knew that. He was supposed to die in some glorious bloodbath against Centurions and instead he was here with her, trapped in a dead city hundreds of miles away from any Legion camp. His vengeance died here, and she hoped he didn't hate her too much for it.

The door shook again, the scraping of metal on tile grating harshly through the monotonous drone as the desks and cabinets were pushed back. It seemed to snap everyone back into the moment. Heads turned and curses fell quietly around them.

Veronica looked stricken. "Are you crazy? I can't just leave you all here—"

"She's the only one without a collar," Riley said, kneeling next to Boone. "Might as well get her clear." She adjusted the strap on the weapon. She lifted it once, trying to get a feel for it, but it felt foreign and odd. It was heavier than the standard issue rifle the NCR gave their soldiers but she'd just have to make do. A hand fell on her shoulder and jerked her around. Veronica stared down at her with hard, angry eyes.

"We're not going to die."

"You hear that?" Riley pointed at the door. "That says there's a pretty good chance that we will. So you get her clear. You find a place to hide her and then you get clear yourself."

She could see Cass out of the corner of her eye, leaning against a wall and staring at the ceiling. She was muttering quietly to herself, her lips moving over what Riley guessed was a litany of every swearword known to man.

"You're serious," Veronica said. "You're— but—" she turned to the man beside her. "Boone—"

"Go," he said without turning around, voice tight. "It's the right thing."

"We can't give up yet," Veronica pleaded. "This is _my fault. _We're here because of me and—We can still fix this!"

They didn't have time.

"Go," Riley jerked her head. "We don't have much time. _Go," _she said again when Veronica didn't move. The Scribe gave her one last look of despair, before turning on her heel and rushing back to where Christine was propped up.

"Wait. _Wait!_" God called out. His voice was thunderous as it roared over the din. Riley turned to stare at the mutant as Veronica skidded to a halt, hope flaring dangerously close to the surface.

"What?"

He grimaced, standing and approaching the cell door. "Let Dog out of the cage."

"What?" Cass hissed. "I'd rather take my chances with the Ghost People. Don't let him out!"

She had a point. Didn't God just waste all of that time telling them how dangerous Dog was? Why the sudden change of heart? But if she just let _God_ out, that in itself could help. They could escape…

"Give me the key," she told him. He held it out, reaching between the bars, holding it in the middle of his outstretched palm. She gripped the little piece of metal and hurried to open the cell door, ignoring Cass' frantic pleas not to. The ghost people were making headway on the barricade. The cell door swung open and God stood there, staring at her with something akin to fear.

"Let Dog out of the cage," he said again. "Play the old man's voice."

Cass sputtered behind her.

"He's better at fighting than I am. And he's… hungry," God said, glancing at the failing barricade. "It's the only way you're going to get out of this."

She swallowed. The door cracked, the splintering of wood telling them their time was almost up.

"Riley, _don't," _Cass pleaded. "We got him out. Let's just fucking go."

"Last chance," God told her.

Riley lifted her Pip-Boy. "What do I tell him?"

"Whatever he needs to hear," God said softly. Was he sharing the same thoughts as Cass? Would Dog turn on them? Was this a huge mistake? "Do it."

She swallowed, finger hovering over the play button. "I'll let you back out."

"Hmm. Maybe. We'll see."

She hit play.

* * *

_Snap. Crunch. Smack._

Riley was going to be sick. She turned away from the sight of Dog sitting in the middle of the room, pulling limb after limb off the bodies of the ghost people scattered around him. The door was torn off, the gaping hole into the street brought in the cool night air and of course, as always, the Cloud. If this kept up they wouldn't have any safe buildings left in the city.

Cass was retching quietly in a corner, her dry heaves the only other sound other than the sounds of Dog eating. And eating.

A rattling breath rose, followed by the quick one-two of gunfire as Boone put it down again. She could hear him dragging the body closer to Dog. He was the only one willing to get that close, and the only one of them who didn't seem put off by his feeding.

"Is he almost done?" Riley choked out.

"No," said Boone. He fired another round and another body hit the floor with a _thump_.

"Shouldn't we not make so much noise?" Veronica suggested. "There could be more."

"I think we're safe," said the ghoul. He was sitting on the edge of a desk, a bored expression spread across his face as he smoked a cigarette. But his hand shook with each drag. "Undoubtedly there _are _more, of course. But none close enough to be a risk. Whatever was here was… well, it. I'd say we're pretty safe until we venture into Puesta del Sol or Salida del Sol. Which we'll have to do, by the way, if we ever want to get into that casino."

"Noted," Riley said. Her voice sounded strange and she tried swallowing. But there was too much in the air. She turned around in a small circle, trying to find a path to take. The room was a gory mess, blood and that pink goo covered the tiles, the walls, the desks. Some dripped from the ceiling, and a constant pulsing itch started to creep up on her as each drop hit the floor.

"No no no no," she moaned softly, pressed her hands to her eyes. This couldn't be happening again. But she could still hear it, and with each snapping crunch of Dog's eating, the dripping echoed louder in her ears. She could see it, the blood-soaked sand at the foot of Noah's cross, the blood of the girl up on the podium as it poured down her breast. She tried thing of something—anything—else, but when she couldn't it only made her panic flare up even worse. Another shot shattered the night and she jumped and turned, intending to get away. Away from the mess and the smell and the sound and the image of the pregnant girl falling. Bodies blocked her path to the lunch room and she found herself backing up until she was in the hall. Everywhere she looked there was blood. On her hands and her clothes. And still there was the fucking collar, heavy around her neck and now she couldn't breathe.

"What are you doing?"

She barely heard it as she leaned against the wall, hand pressed to her chest while her breathing grew rapid and shallow. Her fingers tingled, pins and needles making every movement feel off.

"Riley. Look at me."

Look at what? She blinked, but spots coloured her vision and she couldn't focus.

"Hey. Look at me. Riley, come on."

She licked her lips. She knew the voice. Of course she knew it. "Boone?"

"Yeah." His voice was close to her, and she heard him snapping his fingers in front of her face. "I'm right here. Look at me."

"Can't—" she took a deep breath and he snapped his fingers again, making her flinch. "Don't," she said, shaking her head in erratic, jerky motions. "Don't do that." Her heart raced, and the pain in her chest grew until it threatened to claw its way up her throat.

"Snap out of it," he said again, quietly. "Open your eyes. Riley." He placed his hands on each side of her face, tilting her head up with strong fingers. He was too close, she thought, the heat of his body suffocated her. She couldn't move. She needed space. "Look at me."

She opened her eyes. The hall they were in was dark, one light flickered dimly at the end of it, casting Boone's face in shadow. But she could see his eyes. He stared at her, calm and still, even as she gasped desperately for air that wasn't thick with the smell of blood, and Boone was covered in it.

"Can't breathe," she gasped. "Can't—"

"Yes, you can." His hands were still there, keeping her steady. "Take one breath, count to two, and release."

"Count—?" she closed her eyes, struggled to follow his words. "What—"

"Focus on me. That's it," he nodded encouragingly as she opened her eyes again. "Breathe. With me." She mimicked him as he inhaled deeply through his nose, held for a beat, and exhaled slowly through his mouth. Inhale, one, two, exhale. The smell of blood was still there, but so was he, and she focused on that instead as her heart rate gradually slowed to a stable rhythm. With each successful breath she was able to take more in, like how her hands were locked in a death grip around his wrists, and how despite this, his fingers were working a slow, comforting circle just below each ear, each stroke in tandem with her breaths. Just simple, soothing contact.

"Done this before?" she asked, and he gave a ghost of a smile.

"Carla," he shrugged lightly. "Had some panic attacks during her pregnancy. Hormones."

Suddenly his breathing technique made sense. She didn't know what to say, but her hold loosened on his wrists until holding onto him at all seemed wrong somehow. She dropped her hands, pressing them flat against the wall behind her, quiet. She avoided his gaze until his hands dropped to his side and instead he just stood there, watching her to make sure she was fully composed. She felt strangely cold now.

"Sorry. I'm—" she took another shaky breath. "It's getting worse," she said finally. "Panic attacks. I had one earlier in the clinic. Managed to snap out of it before shit hit the fan, but still. This keeps up and I'm officially a liability."

He frowned. "This hasn't happened before."

"No," she agreed. "It's the collar. It's—" she lifted her hands, half-clenched in frustration. "It's— ugh. It's this place. It's everything." Boone gave her a warning look as her breathing picked up again and she forced herself to calm down.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked, and she had to smile. He knew exactly what she was getting at.

"Keep me on track?" She closed her eyes, focused on the steady rise and fall of her own breath. "If you see me spacing out, snap me out of it. If I can keep focused, I'm okay. Just don't let me have another attack."

"What triggers it?"

"Blood," she grimaced. "The smell of it. It normally doesn't bother me but— Heard it dripping. I see it on him, on her," she shook the images from her head. "It's the collar. It makes it worse. It pulls me back there. I don't want to be there."

"And the others?" he lowered his voice, shifted his body so the view of the main lobby was closed to her. "What do we tell them?"

She thought for a moment. "Nothing. Need-to-know basis. No one below Corporal needs to know."

He smiled faintly. "Maybe I tell Cass she's promoted to Captain."

Humour. From Boone. He was trying to make her laugh. She reached out and punched him lightly on the arm, smiling and grateful. "Maybe I demote you back to Private."

"Hey," Veronica joined them, padding down the hall quietly. She stopped as she got closer, glancing between the two of them. Boone took a step back away from Riley. "Uh," said Veronica, eyebrows raised. "Okay. Um. The big guy is almost done so…"

Riley sighed and nodded. Back into the gory mess. She could do this, she thought. She just had to focus on what she needed to do.

"Gonna bring the other guy out again?" Boone asked as they made their way back. She nodded.

"Yeah. Told him I would. And I'm a woman of my word."

The smell wasn't as strong. She guessed the fact that Dog ate half of the source had something to do with it. He was still sitting there, in front of the broken door. The floor surrounding him was coated in a thick, bloody paste. Streaks from where bodies were dragged through it leaving a messy trail across the tile. Riley tried to maintain a cool exterior as she picked her way through the room. All eyes were on her as she took a breath and crouched down in front of the blue mutant.

Her first thought was that he needed a napkin. Her second was that she was being ridiculous.

"Hi," she tried to smile. "Remember me?"

"Not master," Dog said. "Let Dog out. Feed Dog. Good person but not Master."

"Are you full?"

"Yeah," he hung his head. "My stomach hurts."

"Sorry. You did good though. You were a good boy. I'm going to let you rest now okay?"

"Okay."

She played the audio file that brought God out, watched as his form shifted, the recognition and menacing intelligence come back into his eyes. She swallowed.

"Hi."

"You're… alive." He sounded surprised. Pleased, but surprised. Wordlessly, she lifted a hand and gestured helplessly around them, and watched as God took in his—Dog's—handiwork.

"Ugh." He moved, pushing himself to his feet, and she stood with him, taking a step back to give him room. "I guess that plan worked out rather well."

"You could say that. Um. Thank you." She couldn't see the others around the bulk of him, but she also didn't feel like he was a threat. Still, she stayed where she was—out of reach. "Really, I mean it. Can I ask what changed your mind?"

"You're different," he said thoughtfully. "You put another's survival before your own. You accepted defeat and still tried to save her." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Maybe I'm curious if you can survive this. Succeed where countless others failed."

She tilted her head up at him. "Does that mean you'll help?"

"I'll help," he agreed. "Until you prove me wrong. It might not even take that long. But for now I'll… cooperate. For what good it'll do you."

"And Elijah?" she asked. "What are you going to do when we find him? Because you should know, there's already a line to deal with him." And Veronica, she wondered? What would she do? Did she still want to keep him alive after all this?

"Of course there is," God sneered. "I'll see this through to the end. But like you, I want my freedom."

She nodded. "Partners, then."

"Huh. I guess we are."

"Just one big happy family, aren't we?" The ghoul joined them, still smoking as he stepped around God's hulking form. "I guess we're in this together. Now that all the secrets are out, maybe proper introductions are in order, hmm?"

That's right, she thought. She didn't even know his name. "Riley," she said.

"Dean," he stuck out his hand and she took it. "Dean Domino."

She blinked as he gave her hand a firm grip. "D— uh."

"What?" he demanded. He said the word funny. _Hwat._

"You're—" she cleared her throat. "So this might seem awkward after the whole gun-to-the-head thing. But could I have your autograph?"


	31. Laugh as I fall to my knees

**Author's Note:**_ I am not 100% satisfied with this (but hahaha when am I ever?) but I tend to edit past chapters randomly as I'm going anyway, so I'll probably come back to this in the future. ANYWAYS. Thanks for reading, reviewing, favouriting, etc! You guys are the best!_

* * *

"So," Dean said, picking up a pillow and scowling at it. They were getting ready for everyone to turn in for the night, setting up sleeping arrangements that were decently comfortable with the few blankets and pillows Veronica had found in a storage closet. Boone was upstairs, locking God back up in his cage and getting ready for his watch. "Our little rag-tag group is going to pull off the heist of the century, eh?"

Riley looked over at him. The room they were in was cold, dark, and smelled of steel.

"What about it?"

"Just wondering how much you know," Dean drawled. "How much the old man told you about what's needed to get in."

She sighed, bending to adjust the blanket spread out on the floor. "I didn't actually talk to him. Boone did."

"That's the quiet one? Your knight in shining armour?" He tilted his head thoughtfully, smiling when her expression turned confused. "He seems to take great offence anytime I mention your legs. Which, might I add, are quite lovely. One would almost think he had a _claim _on them."

She blinked. Boone did what? "My— uh." Dean was watching her intently, trying to read into her reactions to what he said. She pursed her lips, trying to make her face a mask devoid of emotion. Poker face. "I don't know what you said, but he was probably just having my back."

He tilted his head. "Not, uh, curious about the details?"

She turned back around, grabbing the various bags of supplies and ammo they'd gathered. "Nope." She gave a small grunt as she lifted them, hauling them into the next room while Dean followed slowly behind her.

"Why not?"

"Just not," she said, voice strained as she dumped everything next to the door. Readily accessible in case they had to make a hasty exit. If she was being honest with herself, she was absolutely curious. But that wasn't really where she needed to be focusing her thoughts right now. Dean leaned against the wall next to her.

"I was under the impression you two were—shall we say—together?"

"You been talking to Cass?"

"No. Should I?"

She dusted her hands off, heading down the hall to the stairs leading up. Behind her, Dean sighed and followed. "You thought wrong, songbird. He's my partner."

"What kind?"

"What?" she turned around, annoyed.

He spoke slowly. "What kind of partner?"

"Snipers," she frowned. "We're a sniper team. Both retired."

"You're a little _young _to be retired, aren't you?"

"Not really." She eyed him. "Look, was there a point you were trying to get at? I think you got sidetracked."

"Right," Dean said. "The casino and how we're getting in."

"All I got was that we have to fire up this gala event thing, and the gates will unlock."

"Correct. But that's the easy part. The hard part comes once we're inside."

Of course, she sighed. Nothing was ever simple.

"Look," said Dean, leaning against the wall, crossing his legs casually. "You just have to find me once we're inside, and I'll take care of everything."

"That doesn't sound hard."

"And make sure _everyone _makes it in," he added. Riley paused, her eyes narrowing a fraction because _that _seemed out of character. Dean had been very every-man-for-himself since the get-go. She doubted that the revelation about the collars was enough to suddenly turn him into a team player. Or was it? It would certainly be in the interest of self-preservation if everyone who was collared stuck together.

But he said _everyone. _He stressed the word.

Christine.

"You're not going to tell me why, are you." It wasn't a question.

"No," he said. "Call it insurance."

"Insurance for what?"

"That you'll find me first. That you won't just leave me and go after the treasure on your own. My dear," he sighed, pulling out his pack of cigarettes. "Trust me. When the band strikes up, you want the leading man on the stage. That's the money-maker, right there, and you're looking right at him."

Well, he was certainly a pack of riddles. "For a jazz singer, you're certainly vague."

"My singing has nothing to do with my beef against Sinclair," he snapped, striking a match and lighting his cigarette. "He made this place, and I'm going to break it."

She stared, baffled. "Sinclair is…?"

"Dead. Long gone. A two hundred year old memory and one not worth remembering. Look," he gestured at her, cutting her off before she could speak. "You get me in, and I'll make you richer than you could ever imagine. Cross me, and you'll regret it."

"Rich, coming from you, don't you think?"

He rolled his eyes. "Look. How _well _do you trust this partner of yours?"

She blinked at the lack of segue. "With my life."

He smiled bitterly, shoving one hand in his pocket as he smoked. "I had a partner once, you know. Before the bombs fell. We were going to make history together, her and I. It was all planned out."

She stared at him, looking for his angle. "And then?"

"She betrayed me." He took a drag off his cigarette. "Left me holding the bag."

"He's not going to betray me," she sighed. The very idea of Boone backstabbing someone was laughable. "Where are you going with this?"

"Are you _sure _about that?" He asked, ignoring her question. "What happens when your goals no longer align? What happens when you do something he doesn't agree with? You're the one who calls the shots, am I right?"

She thought of Boone, standing in a hotel room in the Wrangler and glaring at her as she wavered on what to do about Nelson. Would he have gone on his own if she'd said no?

"Yeah, but—"

"People are like magnets. They're drawn to one another, so long—" he held up a finger, "— as they face the right direction. Once that direction changes," he spread his hands wide. "It's over. So one day, something you do will cross the line. Or something you _don't _do. Or maybe it's something _he_ does or doesn't do. Either way, he'll leave you and you'll see that I'm right. Mark my words," he took another drag. "There's no one in this life you can trust but yourself. Others are there to be used, my dear. Nothing more. Partnerships are temporary, that's all they're meant to be. So this—" he gestured between the two of them, "—little relationship? It works because our goals align. We're facing the right direction. You get me in, and I'll get you out. And then we're done. No misunderstandings."

She stared at him. "And this life lesson was brought to me by—?"

He smiled thinly. "The goodness of my irradiated heart."

"Right. Thanks. I think." She stepped back to where they stashed the supplies, bent and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. "Get some rest, Domino. Show starts in six hours."

"Break a leg," he murmured, watching as she stomped away.

* * *

She stopped in to check on Veronica next. She'd claimed the farthest room for her and Christine, and the only cot in the entire police station. Christine was still unconscious, but she looked comfortable and serene, nestled under her blanket. Veronica was bent over her, one hand on Christine's forehead.

"How is she?"

Veronica turned, smiled. "Better. Heart rate's up. I think she'll wake soon."

"Just as we're turning in," Riley crossed the room, slid her hip onto the corner of the desk. "She'll tire faster than the rest of us."

"She's strong," Veronica said. "Before you I've never known a stronger woman."

Riley snorted. "I'm not strong."

"I think you are," Veronica smiled. "You hit like a girl, sure," she added, and Riley laughed. "But every time you fight, you fight like your life depends on it."

"Yeah, well, it usually does."

"And you keep fighting," Veronica went on. "You don't give up. Even when it looked like we were all going to die, you looked for a way out so Christine could survive. That's strong."

"Um. Thanks?" Riley smiled, bemused. "What brought that on?"

Veronica shrugged and adjusted Christine's pillow. "You didn't have to come after me, you know. After the sandstorm. Boone told me how he had to fight to keep you inside."

"Ron—"

"But if you didn't," she sighed. "I don't think I could do this alone. So thank-you. I know I didn't exactly earn your trust with what happened at the Scrap Yard."

Riley shifted, uncomfortable. "That was my fault. I was thinking earlier, while we were walking to the Clinic, I should have taken you with us to Helios. It wasn't that I didn't trust you because you're Brotherhood. I really just wanted to save time."

Veronica blinked. "You thought I was mad about that?"

Riley frowned. "Uh. Weren't you? I mean, it was the only thing that made sense to me on why you wouldn't trust me."

Veronica pressed a hand to her head, laughing lightly. "Wow. Um. Okay. This is going to sound really bad, then. But the reason I didn't trust you is because you're NCR." She winced at Riley's expression. "I know. I'm sorry. It's stupid."

"I'm a Courier," Riley said, quietly. "I'm not a soldier anymore."

"I know. But… Okay first there was Boone, and then the Outpost, and then a week of doing things for the NCR. Annexing Primm for them, clearing the highway. And then Boulder City and Nelson and Forlorn Hope—" she paced as she listed everything off.

"Okay," Riley nodded. "I get why you might get that impression. I'm still an NCR citizen, so I guess you're not completely wrong. But Ronnie," she sighed. "I'm still your friend."

"I know. _I know_. I just… I thought that if I asked you to help me with what I found out about Elijah, that you wouldn't. Because it's Brotherhood business."

"And…" Riley finished for her. "The NCR and Brotherhood aren't exactly on friendly terms. I get it."

"But I was wrong," Veronica went on. "Not about the NCR and Brotherhood. But about you. You're loyal. I knew that before, but I was thinking—you know—to the NCR. But you're loyal to your friends, too, and I don't think you would ever sell me out. I think I'd have to murder babies or something for you to turn on me."

Riley smiled. "Pretty much."

"So… I'm sorry. And thank-you." Veronica nodded. "And I promise to never murder babies."

Her smile widened. It was nice seeing Veronica back to her usual self. "That's reassuring, thanks."

"Anytime."

* * *

She dropped the bottle of whiskey in Cass' lap before taking up a spot on a crate across from her.

"What's this?"

"I think I said I'd buy you the first round," Riley shrugged. "I didn't pay for it, but it still counts, right?"

Cass grinned as she held the bottle out at arm's length with both hands, reading the label. "Bourbon. _Nice. _Where'd you find this?"

"Up in one of the prisoner cells," Riley shrugged. "Along with a stack of dirty mags, sorry I didn't grab those, too."

Cass shrugged as she popped the cork. "I'll grab them on our way out. Might sell for a mint back in the Mojave. Nothing like two hundred year old tits to make a few caps."

Her lips twitched upwards as Cass drank. "You think that'll happen?"

The redhead coughed violently as she lowered the bottle, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve. "God that's good. Think what'll happen?"

"Us getting out."

"Don't see why fucking not," Cass rested her head back against the crate she was using as support. "Long as you two soldiers stop trying to play hero. You scared the fuck out of me, you know that?"

"Sorry," she smiled apologetically. "There really was no other option at that point, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know. Still," Cass sighed. "It sucked, thinking I was to die in the middle of bumfuck nowhere with no alcohol in my system." She snorted with a smile. "You know I haven't gotten laid since the Outpost?"

Riley grinned. "Really? I figured you mighta picked up a King or two in Freeside."

"Thought about it. Really thinking about it now," she took another drink, stretched out her legs. "That's first on my list when we get out of here. Shit." She smirked. "Didn't think I'd ever want a bucket list, but I'm starting one now."

"And fucking a King is first on your bucket list?"

"Why not? They got great hair."

"What about James?" Riley suggested. James had great hair, too.

"Garret?" Cass barked a laugh. "Fuck. That. Don't tell me you missed the way his eyes lit up when we brought that walking can of bolts back for him. Ain't no 'customer'—" she lifted two fingers and mimed air quotations, "—looking for kinky robot sex. That was all him."

"Great, that's all I need to be thinking about now, thanks," Riley rolled her eyes and Cass lifted her bottle in salute.

"Better than thinking about the mess we're in now," she said bitterly.

Because she couldn't argue that, or at least, didn't want to try, Riley slid down to the floor and grabbed her blanket, pulling it over her lap and up to her shoulders.

"Get some sleep, Cass."

"Don't need to tell me twice."

* * *

She couldn't sleep. Now that all was quiet, Riley's mind was starting to wander. She was reminded of the night at the Mojave Outpost, where sleep meant memories that she didn't want resurfacing. Counting stars on a clear night, and a sniper with a smoking habit making her lose focus.

Because the sniper wasn't at hand, she looked around her, trying to find something she could use as a distraction, something that might lull her to sleep if she let it. Cass was slumped between two crates, the bottle of whiskey Riley gave her cradled in the crook of her arm. Her hair was falling over her eyes, and in the dim light of the room they were in, Riley could barely even see the freckles on her face.

If she could see better, she might consider substituting freckles for stars, but figured that might get a little creepy if Cass ever decided to wake up.

There were rivets in the floor, she noticed, in the walls. Screws and carriage and anchor bolts. Nails in the crates glinted what little light they had back at her. She could count those. There were probably hundreds in the little room they were in.

But when she couldn't decide on a spot to start, she gave up and admitted the sniper was a far better distraction.

Defeated, she pushed herself to her feet, feeling a little ridiculous as she tip-toed her way out of the room. She found her way upstairs and held her breath as she stepped into the main lobby. The mess of their battle greeted her. Red on the walls, goo dripping from the ceiling. God dozed not-so-quietly in his cell, his heavy breathing masking the sound of her footfalls as she stepped gingerly into the room.

Boone wasn't there, and she made a face as she manoeuvred her way through the gore. She found him in the locker room, sitting on one of the benches with one knee raised as he worked on tying a shoelace. She paused in the doorway. He'd donned one of the suits of security armour, she noticed, complete with bulletproof vest. His white jumpsuit hung neatly in one of the open lockers and she smiled because it was absolutely ridiculous that he insisted on his neat habits when they were this far up shit creek.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, not looking up.

"You could say that."

"The mutant still asleep?"

"Like you can't hear the noise he's making from here," she smiled faintly.

He finished with his boot and set his leg back down as she stepped into the room. His hands were clenched as he watched her, an expression on his face that she couldn't place. It was almost wary.

"You alright?" he asked. She sat down on the other bench.

"I'll live."

"Not what I asked."

She tilted her head, considering him. "Are _you _alright?"

He spared her a look, because the question was admittedly pretty stupid. Of the entire group, Boone was probably the only one handling this situation in a calm manner.

"Are you going to answer me?"

"What do you think?"

"Are you going to answer everything with a question?"

"Should I?"

He scowled. She grinned.

"Sorry. Something I used to do with Noah." She shrugged and leaned forward so she was resting her arms on her legs. "Nothing ever seemed to annoy him."

"So you purposely tried to get under his skin." His tone indicated exactly what he thought of that plan.

She smiled faintly. "I guess. We were always picking on eachother. He was kinda like the brother I never had."

They sat silently for a long time before she spoke again. "Hey. Why'd you join the army?"

He looked up at her, frowning. "Why?" he asked, cautious.

"Just wondering."

He sighed. "Answer for an answer?"

She blinked, more surprised than anything that he was bringing up that silly game again. "Sure?"

He looked down. "I was twenty, working out of Klamath."

She smiled at him, disbelievingly. "I didn't take you for a gecko hunter."

"It's where I learnt to shoot," he said defensively. "Honest work, honest pay." He watched her, waiting for her to say something disparaging, maybe. When she didn't, he continued. "Recruiters came around town one day, looking to boost their numbers out in the Mojave. Was around the time the Legion started pushing West. NCR scouts weren't returning from missions. Made everyone edgy."

She nodded, remembering the murmurs that were going around. She was around New Reno at the time, if she recalled correctly.

"One guy picked me off the street," Boone went on. "Saw my rifle, said I looked like I knew what to do with it. I said I did. He said if I was willing to shoot something other than gecko, they'd pay me to do it. And it'd keep people safe out here. Seemed like the right thing to do, anyway."

"They paid more than what you were earning?" she asked.

"They paid _regularly," _he stressed. "You hunt, you're relying on there being game and that you're the first one to get it. Lot of competition out there. Sometimes you come home with nothing." He shrugged. "Just seemed smart to sign up for a regular pay cheque. Put my skills to use on something worthwhile."

She nodded. "Makes sense."

"Your turn," he said. Her breath left her sharply.

"What did you want to know?"

He shrugged. "Same question."

"Not much to tell," she lifted one shoulder. "Joined after my parents died."

"Why?"

"They were NCR. Mom was a Ranger. Guess you can say I was a bit of an army brat." She smiled. "I was a courier back then. Ran off once I was sixteen to deliver _mail_," she snorted. "But it was fun. Got to see a lot of new places. Meet new people. Once they were gone, I dunno. Felt like what I was doing was pointless and I should pick up where they left off, you know?"

He stared at her. "And then you quit."

She took a deep breath. "And then I quit. I didn't really… get it. Not really. I joined after Hoover Dam so the fighting wasn't ever that bad. Wasn't ever on the front lines of anything. A scouting party here, a stray raider there. I was a bit cocky," she smirked. "Didn't take it seriously."

"Stupid."

She looked down to hide her smile. "Yeah, well, hindsight is twenty-twenty."

"Would you do it again?" he asked. She frowned up at him.

"Which part?"

"Joining."

She raised a brow. "Answer for an answer?"

"Okay."

"Knowing what I do now," she reached out and plucked absently at her pant leg. "Yeah. I would. I'd never have met Noah otherwise. And the day that—" she inhaled deeply through her nose. "The day we got caught. I egged him on. Made us stray from the objective. Wanted something to do because Searchlight was a boring post back then and I hadn't seen action in weeks."

"Stupid," he said again.

"Yeah," she nodded, still not looking up. "So knowing what I know now, yeah. I'd still join, but maybe I'd be smarter about it." She looked up now, saw him staring at her in that disarming way of his. She cleared her throat. "So how'd you meet Carla?"

His eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Answer for an answer, right?"

He sighed, clearly regretting this. "I met her on leave on the Strip. She found me wandering the streets, looking for Manny. She said I looked lost."

"She knew her way around?"

"She was from Vault 21," he said, his words rushing out quicker than usual. "Worked in the bar there." Silence. "She'd never been outside the city."

"The doctor who stitched me up after I was shot in Goodsprings was from Vault 21," she said. "Maybe they knew each other."

"Maybe. Anyway, she helped me look for Manny. Took me to each casino, talking the entire time. She couldn't keep quiet and I just listened because what else could I do? Talking's not really my thing, but her…" he reached up, rubbed at the back of his neck above the collar. This might have been the longest she'd ever heard him talk. "She didn't make sense to me, how happy she was. It was like there wasn't war on her doorstep, like the bombs didn't fall. Like everything was okay. After all I'd seen, somebody like that…" he looked down again. "She was special. By the time we made it to the Gomorrah, I was…"

"Head over heels?" she suggested, smiling lightly. He glanced up at her.

"Yeah."

Her smile grew. "She sounds great."

He smiled sadly, staring off in front of him as he thought of his wife. "She was."

Well this got depressing fast. She didn't come up here to drag him through memory lane, though that is apparently exactly what she ended up doing. She was just looking for a distraction, something to keep her mind off the weight around her neck. But the look on Boone's face as he talked about Carla was heartbreaking.

"Would you have done it again?" She asked, trying to change the subject. "With joining."

He thought for a second. "No."

She frowned. "But… then you wouldn't have met Carla." She regretted it the instant she said it. Boone went very still. His gaze lifted to hers as his jaw clenched and she swore inwardly.

If he hadn't met Carla, she would never have left the Strip. She wouldn't be dead right now.

"I didn't—" she sighed. Idiot. "Boone, I—"

"It's fine." He said, standing. "Doesn't matter anyway. You can't change the past." He grabbed his rifle and stalked out of the room, leaving her alone.

She looked down at her empty hands. "No," she said quietly. "You can't."


	32. Can I control this empty delusion?

**Author's Note:** _Wellll, this is late. My apologies and thank you for being patient with me while I kicked this one around. And special thank-you's go out to my beta, Kay, for his always patient and calm encouragement and thoughts, and to fortheloveofyessica for helping with drunken plotting and her constant enthusiasm. :P _

_Thank you as always for reading, and please leave a review if you feel like it! :)_

* * *

Maybe it was a bad idea to take her watch alone. She told herself she was fine, that she could hold it together. But in the back of her mind she worried she was wrong, and they'd find her huddled in a corner sometime in the morning. Anxiety knotted in her stomach at the idea, staying there like a heavy reminder of the responsibility she was forcing on herself.

She could always go wake Boone. He had, in fact, told her to do so if she needed to, but waking him after he'd already taken a shift felt like a dick move, and she didn't have the heart to wake anyone else up to keep her company. She briefly considered taking a quick scouting expedition outside the building, if only for something to focus on, but scratched that idea almost as soon as it presented itself. Watch didn't mean wandering out on your own and leaving those you were responsible for.

Besides, the last time she went off-mission ended up with her collared and Noah crucified, and hell if she was going to test fate more than once in her lifetime.

So she tried to keep occupied. She cleaned herself up, washing the blood and the gore from her face and hair. She found something other than the jumpsuit to wear. She forced a box of Cram down her throat because dehydrated and undernourished was no way to break into a casino. She spent an hour going through the drawers and computer entries. Sinclair was mentioned a few times, an insight into Dean's world that surprised her, oddly. She'd seen posters of what Dean looked like back then, but still had trouble connecting the Dean she knew to the posters plastered all over the Mojave.

Then, for lack of anything else to do, she found the skin magazines she'd mentioned to Cass and spent the majority of her watch flipping through them and reading the articles in the locker room. Maybe if they were in the Mojave, with no undead abominations wandering the streets, the articles would be something she could get into. As it was, they were just words on a page to her now, each sentence just something to get through so she could get to the next one. A flowing road of endless vocabulary to sift through.

A noise brought her out of it after maybe a half hour of reading. She lifted her head, ear cocked to one side. Whatever it was was coming from the vents, tinny and distant. Loud, heavy breathing. Footsteps on metal. Metal?

The basement.

She jumped to her feet, dropping the magazine carelessly to the ground as she grabbed the closest weapon at hand and rushed out of the room. She slipped on the mess in the main lobby, jamming her hip painfully against a desk as she managed to keep upright. God jerked awake, an irritated grumbling following her as she ran out of the room and down the stairs. She flew down them, yanking open the door, mind racing the entire time. Did the ghost people find a way to get in through the ventilation shafts? Were they even that flexible? That smart? Did it walk right in without her hearing it? Maybe she should have stayed in the main room, with God's snoring and the gory mess. Was it even one of them? What if Cass just really needed to pee?

It was that thought that slowed her in her tracks. There was no sense in waking everyone over something frivolous, and if it was something dangerous she didn't need to announce her arrival with a commotion either. Stealth was the answer, and she took great care in stepping around Dean and over Boone. It calmed her, seeing Boone fast asleep. He hardly got enough sleep as it was, and if he hadn't woken at the faintest footfall, let alone her frantic flight down there, then there was probably nothing to worry about, right? Still, she kept low to the ground as she moved quietly through the halls, each step planned so as not to make a sound.

The weapon she'd grabbed turned out to be the holorifle, and she lifted it, surprised at how comfortable it felt in her hands.

Cass was asleep in the next room, and she breathed easier. Christine was probably up, Riley realised. The footsteps were most likely hers. It would make sense, at any rate, and she found herself taking the corridor to the last room with a calmer stride and a straighter back. At the very least, it wouldn't hurt to check on her. She probably had questions.

Her eyes went to Veronica first upon entering, curled up in the corner under a threadbare blanket. But the rest of the room, from what she could see, was empty. Christine's cot sat empty, her pillow tossed to the floor. What—

"Hrgchk!"

A flash of movement as she turned around was the only warning she had before she was up against a wall. Her weapon fell from her hand, clattering to the ground, useless and out of reach. A hand wrapped tightly around her throat above the bomb collar, and a well-muscled arm connected to a very angry looking Christine.

Breathing quickly became a commodity as Riley gasped under her hold. She clawed at her arm, trying to get out her name or anything that might have her reconsider. It was the strength, more than anything, that took her by surprise. Shouldn't she be weakened from her time under anaesthesia? Or was this the effect of adrenaline? Someone so _little _should _not _be that strong. Wounded pride and indignation reared their irritated heads, and she felt the incredible urge to destroy the person holding her. Break the hold like she'd done with Boone so many nights ago, grab the gun, finish the job. End the threat.

But she couldn't. Because this wasn't a threat, this was _Christine_. Veronica's Christine. Hurting her meant hurting Veronica, and she couldn't do that.

That didn't mean she couldn't break the hold. She reached up, grabbing Christine's wrist and digging her nails into the skin. She moved to turn her body but realised belatedly that her shoulder was pinned against the wall with Christine's other hand, stopping her from even trying.

Shit.

Veronica stirred lightly in her sleep in the corner and Riley's panic flared. Strangled to death by your best friend's ex-girlfriend wasn't really how she expected to die. Christine's glare was hard, accusing, cold, and Riley had the ridiculous urge to laugh if she could. Really? Was this a thing? Was everyone going to attempt to kill her upon meeting her? Where was her infamous luck now?

"Collar…" she choked, in a last ditch attempt to reach through to Christine. Surely she knew the collars were linked? Veronica was _right there_.

It worked. Christine's brow furrowed, her glare faltered as she glanced over her shoulder. Footsteps echoed down the hall and Riley felt relief surge through her as Boone appeared in the doorway, his gaze sweeping over the room and the scene in front of him. In a simple move, he raised his gun and levelled it on the smaller woman.

"Back away. Now."

The grip on her throat loosened and Riley fell to her knees on the floor, coughing violently as she sucked in sweet, sweet air.

"What the hell is with all the noise?" Veronica's groggy voice joined the discord and Riley lifted her head to see the Scribe staring at them wide-eyed as she sat up. "Uh," she said, freezing when she spotted Boone, "you wanna lower the gun?"

"When she stops being a threat," Boone said, his voice hard.

Veronica pushed herself up. "Threat? What the— Riley? Oh my god what the hell happened?" she rushed over and helped Riley to her feet.

"Nothing," she choked out. Her throat felt raw and she tried clearing it. "Misunderstanding," she croaked through watery eyes. Veronica pushed her hair aside and lifted her face up so she could see it better.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," Riley batted her hands away and gestured at Christine, still at the receiving end of Boone's aim and glare. "Go."

"Wh—" Veronica turned, still frowning as she tried to piece together what happened. "Christine. What—"

The smaller woman shook her head, gesturing at her own throat. She opened her mouth, shut it, then shook her head again. Veronica stared.

"You can talk, I trust these guys."

Christine glared at her, opening her mouth in an exaggerated motion as she clutched at her throat. She shook her head two times before lowering her hands.

"She can't talk," Boone said. He eyed Christine, then lowered his weapon. "That procedure must have done something to her vocal chords."

Christine's glare fell on Riley, still coughing and hacking as each ragged breath felt like she'd taken up an instant fifteen year smoking habit.

"She helped get you out," Veronica told her, eyes wide. "She carried you when I couldn't. She didn't do this to you. Why did you attack her?"

Christine plucked at the shirt she was wearing, then pointed again at Riley. She looked down at what she was wearing. She'd changed earlier while upstairs, the black suit she'd found in the Clinic the only thing she found that was suitable. From the angry look on Christine's face and the look of dawning understanding on Veronica's, she had a pretty good guess as to what happened.

"Yours?" Riley choked. Christine nodded curtly and Riley closed her eyes. Of course. She could just imagine how it looked from Christine's perspective. The last thing she remembered was probably being knocked out from behind. Then she wakes up in a strange place, with Veronica unconscious in the corner, and a stranger walks in wearing your armour and carrying your weapon.

Yeah, that probably looked pretty incriminating.

"Hey," Veronica stepped closer to her, her voice low. "Let me talk to her, okay? I'll explain everything to her."

"What about her voice?" Riley coughed, trying to keep her voice to the same whisper. "We _know_ who did that."

Veronica's eyes darkened. "As much as I hate to admit it, _we_ could have done that by interrupting the procedure. I don't know what he was trying to do, but I can't focus on that when there's nothing we can do about it anyway. She's alive and that's all that matters right now."

"You want—" she hacked and felt her eyes water again. "Want me to talk to him?"

"Couldn't hurt," Veronica shrugged. "He seems to like _you _at any rate. Are you gonna be okay?"

She nodded, waving a hand dismissively. "Fine. Don't worry about it."

Boone waited for her by the door, brow quirked as she grabbed the holorifle on her way out, gesturing for him to follow her. Christine watched them leave.

"What is it with you," he asked once they were down the hall, his voice tired, "that turns people violent when you meet them?"

"Been wondering that myself," she croaked. "You'd probably be able to answer that better considering you were one of them."

He snorted, unamused, and she gave him a weary smile.

"Go back to sleep," she said. "We'll figure this out in the morning."

* * *

She still had an hour left in her watch, and she made her way back upstairs slowly, still rubbing at her throat with a pained grimace and a humbled ego. She paused upon stepping into the main room. God was standing at the door to his cell, watching her with those massive hands wrapped around the bars.

"Problems?"

"No," she cleared her throat, but it still came out as hoarse. "Christine woke up. Just some confusion is all."

He looked her over. "I take it she wasn't grateful."

Riley shook her head. "She didn't know what was going on. Get some more rest, still have four hours before we move out."

"To the fountain," God said, not moving. "To talk to the old man. Get our next orders." His tone dropped to a condescending sneer and Riley rubbed at her eyes.

"Right."

"Can't wait." He turned around and walked back to his corner, leaving Riley shaking her head as she stalked back to the locker room. She went immediately for her bag, grabbing a bottle of water from its depths and gulping it down. Water needed to be conserved, she knew that, but god damn she'd drink the entirety of Lake Mead right now if it was available just to alleviate the soreness of her throat.

It occurred to her that Christine might want her suit back, and was just slipping the fabric over one shoulder when there was a small knock on the open door. Odd. She hadn't heard footsteps. Boone? She yanked the armour back into place and turned to find Christine hesitating in the doorway.

"Oh," Riley blinked. "Um. Come to get your suit? I was going to—" she stopped as Christine shook her head and stepped into the room, eyes unsure and shoulders slightly up. "Okay," said Riley. She took a seat on the bench, waiting. "What's up?"

The smaller woman sighed. She pointed at Riley, then raised her hands and encircled her own throat, miming a choking action. She let her hands fall to her chest, where she pressed them over her heart and then extended them downwards, palms up. Riley's brows knit as she watched her.

"Sorry?"

Christine shook her head, pointing at herself.

"_You're _sorry."

She nodded, and Riley smiled.

"Don't be. I mean," she ran a hand through her hair. "I can guess what it looked like, and you're not the first person to try and kill me the moment they see me. But thanks."

Christine smiled briefly, then looked around the room. Her eyes landed on Riley's bag and she arched an eyebrow. Riley frowned.

"Need something?"

She lifted one hand, thumb and pointer finger extended.

"You want a gun."

Christine nodded, her frown deepening. She lifted her left hand, pressed it to her chest gently, then pointed at Riley, then at the floor. She lifted her right hand, made a show of raising each finger individually. Counting? Then gripped her fingers with her other hand and pulled them to the side. She dropped her arms, then lifted her right one again, raised it so she was pointing up at an angle, and Riley blinked rapidly while she tried to make sense of the motions.

"Um. Sorry. Can I get you some paper?"

Christine shook her head, her eyes sad as she traced the scars running across her forehead. She miming writing on the air in front of her, then slashed her hand in a jerky movement. She then mimed opening a book and reading before performing the same motion. Riley nodded.

"You can't read or write because of the… whatever was done to you." By the look of the scars, they were older. Only the ones running across her throat looked recent. Raw, angry red lines that did nothing to alleviate the already hard coldness of the girl's features. But she nodded, her brows drawn angrily together. She pointed again at Riley, then at the floor, repeating her earlier movements, and this time Riley concentrated as she watched.

"You want to help us… stay together? Away. Move? Go. Leave?" she tilted her head, mind fumbling with the comprehension as Christine nodded encouragingly. "You… want to help us get out of here."

Christine smiled, pleased, and Riley found herself smiling in return.

"We could use your help. Especially since you don't have a collar. Veronica…" she trailed off as a harder light came into Christine's eyes. Resigned, bitter. Accusing? Riley's smile fell. "Maybe you don't want to talk about her."

Christine lifted her hand, miming the gun again and Riley sighed. Okay. No Veronica talk. She looked to the side where the holorifle lay propped up against the bench. Well, if someone was going to use it, it might as well be somebody who had more experience with energy weapons. She gripped the barrel and held it out for Christine to take.

"Go on," she said when Christine hesitated. "I have your armour. If you're not going to take your clothes you might as well take this. I have a gun, so take it." She nodded as Christine reached out, grabbing the gun with a firm, yet hesitant, grip. "I still have an hour on watch. You can stay, if you want. Or go get some more rest. We have about four hours until we move out."

Christine frowned, clearly not pleased, but she nodded nonetheless and lifted her hand briefly before heading back out the door.

* * *

The walk back to the fountain was quiet. They were a large group now, and the confidence in their numbers made their trip less stealthy and more of a hurried jog. They didn't talk, though. Even numbers weren't enough to make them forget where they were, and they found themselves tense and alert as they traversed the streets, waiting anxiously for a battle that never came.

It was the sight of the hologram, the swaying woman in the enticing dress that had them relaxing. Shoulders loosened, weapons lowered, breathing came easier. It was as close to feeling safe that Riley had felt since they got there, and that made no sense because they'd just left a fortified police station.

"Vera," Dean greeted the hologram on a sigh as they neared. "A sight for sore eyes, my dear."

"You talk to it?" Cass eyed him incredulously. "Why?"

Dean shrugged. "I have been alone in this city for close to two hundred years. _Guess. _It's not for the _sentiment, _I assure you. One simply just gets _bored _with no one to talk to._"_

"You could have left, you know," Riley pointed out. "All this time?"

"I did," Dean sighed, still staring up at the glowing blue woman. "Briefly, here and there. Never more than a few hours at a time. Always came back."

"Why?"

"Why did I leave or why did I come back?"

"Why did you come back?"

He hesitated before answering, slipping his hands into his pockets in a thoughtful gesture. "Just unfinished business, my dear. It's all it is."

She didn't believe that was all there was to it. It was in the way he stood, the way he stared up at the hologram. The way he spoke about this heist. Not like it was unfinished business, but like he _owed _it to somebody to finish the job.

"Where is he?" God asked, changing the subject. "The old man."

"Right here." The image of Vera flickered and died, and Elijah's head popped up on a holographic screen above them. Dean backed up, his face pulled into a sneer.

"Ruining the view, you know."

"I could say the same about you. I see everyone is here," Elijah sighed. "Your markers are all in one place. Good, good. We can finally get started. You there, with the Pip-Boy."

Riley lifted a brow and glanced at Veronica. Why wasn't he addressing her? "What?"

"I'm uploading coordinates to the Rob-Co trash on your arm. This is where you need to position everyone to start the gala. I highly suggest you place the FEV Re— sorry. I suppose that term no longer applies. The revelations of the last twelve hours have been most enlightening. Place the _mutant_ at the switch station. Everyone else, I really don't care so long as it gets done."

"Uh," Riley frowned. "What happens once the gala goes off?"

"Noise," Elijah whispered. "Fireworks. From your adventures so far I'm sure you can guess what that means."

She thought of the horde at the Clinic, at the police station, how they were drawn to the sound of gunfire. She swallowed anxiously.

"The event lasts for under a minute, but the gates will be open for roughly twenty while the circuits reset. Once the time runs out, the gates will close again. You _must _get inside before that happens. I have no use for you if you don't."

Her hand lifted, touching the cold metal around her neck. She heard the unspoken threat in _that. _"Anything else?"

"Yes. Stop wasting time. My patience is wearing thin." His face vanished and she turned to the group.

"Looks like we're splitting up."

Nobody looked thrilled. She checked her map, scrolling through it to pick out the markers.

"If you want," Dean offered, "I could tell you now exactly who needs to be where."

Riley glanced up at him. "You barely know us."

He smiled thinly. "Oh, I know enough. And I watched the last group do this, so…" he looked at her expectantly and she sighed.

"Fine."

"The switch station can be manned alone by the mutant, he's done it before," Dean declared, earning a glare from God. "Just flip the switch, old boy. I'm sure even your other half could manage _that_."

"I'd be careful, if I were you," God growled. "If it weren't for the collars, you'd make an interesting meal for my _other half. _I'm sure you could survive with just one arm, come to think of it. It'd be a light snack._"_

"Stop it, both of you," Riley sighed.

"The girls, I would send to the switching station," Dean went on. "Lots of tech in there. Programming and computer know-how. Honestly I'd just send the pretty one," he eyed Veronica, "—but I don't think they're leaving each other's side any time soon, do you?"

"It's better if we split up in pairs anyway," Riley snapped, getting irritated. She didn't like how he talked about everyone as if they weren't standing _right there. _"Where else?"

"You, my dear, need to be up at the bell tower. You're the only one with one of those hideous contraptions strapped to your arm. You'll be able to see when we're all in position and coordinate the entire thing."

"Fine," she nodded. "Boone's with me."

"Wh—" Dean paused with his mouth half open, and then closed it with an forced smile. "I was going to suggest I be the one to go with you. Keep things in check, you know?"

"I can manage. But Boone stays with me." She didn't say why, that she needed him. That she didn't trust herself to not fall into a pathetic heap of hysteria if left unchecked. "You and Cass can take up the last position. Once the gala goes off, everyone needs to book it to the gates." She hooked a thumb over her shoulder.

Cass swore and turned around. Dean was still eyeing Riley as if she'd betrayed him.

"Good," Riley nodded. "That's settled." She turned her gaze to Christine. "I assume you've done your own scouting since you've been here. Do you know the way to the Switching Station?" Christine nodded. Riley turned to Dean. "Do you know the way to your position?"

"Do you take me for an idiot?"

She stared at him, wondering if that was rhetorical. She decided not to answer anyway and turned to God. "Do you—"

"No."

She paused. "Uh—"

He growled, frustrated. "I don't know the way. _Dog_ does. So unless you want to deal with him instead of me—"

"No. I said I wouldn't do that." She frowned. "Okay. Uh. Boone and I will escort you there. It's in the same area anyway. Everyone knows what they have to do. Everyone's armed, has food and water?" she looked around, and a series of bobbing heads agreed with her. "Okay. Let's move out."

People separated, divvying into their respective pairs. Veronica and Christine were already moving west, and Riley stepped in front of Dean before he could join Cass, waiting for him at a distance.

"Second thoughts?" He smiled.

"What you said last night," she said quietly. "It goes both ways."

"Pardon?"

"Everyone makes it inside, Dean," she glanced over at Cass. _"Everyone_. Got it?"

His head tilted slightly. "Are you threatening me?"

She lifted her brows, feigning surprise. "Don't be ridiculous, I still want that autograph. I'm just reminding you about our deal. Professional courtesy."

He eyed her. "Of course. Well, don't worry, _partner. _Your pretty friend is safe with ol' Dean."

She nodded. "I'm trusting you to take care of her. You're a gentleman, after all."

"That I am, my dear," he smiled as he turned and walked away. "That I am."

* * *

She wasn't better. Boone knew that. Anxiety wasn't something that just magically went away. Telling someone with anxiety _'you're okay'_ does not, in fact, make it okay. All it did was tell them they were supposed to be something they weren't. All it did was let them know they were failing at being okay.

He'd never asked Riley for details on Cottonwood aside from her escape. Didn't think she'd want to share and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know. The tales of Legion cruelty were renowned, and he'd seen enough first hand. Of course, that was through a scope, where distance acted as a buffer and a shield. But her reaction the day before, that left her a hyperventilating unfocused mess, had him wondering about the specifics.

Boone kept his word by keeping an eye on Riley as they escorted God through the streets. She seemed, for the most part, fine. She checked her corners, keeping a simple military sweep routine as they cleared each street. She reacted quickly, moved quietly. But the tension was still there in the way she held herself, taut and coiled like a bear trap ready to go off.

"You're tense," he told her as they left God at the switch station, locked in his new cage. They could hear him already tearing into the bodies he had them gather as a sort of 'buffer meal' in case Dog wanted out again.

"Of course I'm tense," she muttered, gesturing over her shoulder to where the sounds were fading in the distance. _"That_ is disgusting."

He couldn't argue with that, and together they moved onward.

Salida del Sol was more compact than the rest of the Sierra Madre. The buildings closed in on each other, connected in a maze-like network that to him seemed incredibly stupid. It didn't take long for them to step into more trouble. The beeping started simultaneously, loud and obnoxious in what was previously an easy silence. They stepped back, though with Riley it was more of a jump than a step. Boone opted not to point that out.

"I don't see it," he folded his arms as he scanned the streets around him. Beside him, Riley shook her head.

"Probably in one of the buildings. Be faster to split up."

"No," he said. "We should stay together."

She nodded, took a deep breath, and they set out with Riley leading. They moved quickly, running in doors and through rubble. Surprisingly, lights tended to be still on in the majority of the buildings, making their search a little easier.

They still couldn't find the damn radio.

"It has to be in there," Riley growled at one point, staring up at the second floor of a building they hadn't been able to reach. Boone agreed; all their efforts so far had managed to at least triangulate a partial radius that pointed to that conclusion. However, the first floor was boarded up, leaving them little options to get inside, and Riley was starting to break down.

Her face was flushed, her breathing ragged. Her hands shook slightly at her side. If they didn't get that radio, and soon, she was going to fall apart.

"You want a minute?"

Her hands stopped shaking as she clenched them tight. She flicked her eyes over to meet his and pressed her lips together tightly as she probably realised how transparent she was being.

"I'll be okay."

"Never said you wouldn't be," he said slowly. "I asked if you wanted a minute."

She looked away while she thought about it. He could practically see the gears turning in her head, the logic battling with the desire to prove she was okay. Finally, she pounded a fist against the wall they were leaning on. "I want that damn radio off," she snapped, eyes hard, and before he could say anything she ran back out into the street.

"Ri—" he stopped on a sigh because there was no stopping her with words. He was forced to jog after her, scowling as his collar started beeping in a tempo that didn't match Riley's. The disjointed beeping only served to push them harder, and as they beeped faster, Riley started to panic. She missed an open door on her right, and still the beeping came faster, and faster, until Boone had no choice but to clamp a hand around her wrist and haul her up short.

He dragged her back, yanking her through the doorway and deep into the room. The beeping stopped, leaving only the sound of Riley's heavy breathing. He could feel her pulse hammering like a jackhammer through her wrist, and he released her slowly.

"Shit shit shit shit," she paced in a small circle while Boone looked around. Another storage closet, this one with a workbench and two rusted sets of shelves, crates piled three high in a corner. Riley sagged against the far wall, one hand pressed to her face. Her breathing hadn't slowed. Her eyes were unfocused. Boone moved closer but didn't reach her before she slumped to the ground.

"Riley, hey," he knelt in front of her, frowning when she didn't respond. He resisted the urge to say it was okay. Because it wasn't, honestly. And again, it never helped anyone to lie. Sighing, he reached out and laid an awkward hand on her shoulder. "Breathe through it," he ordered.

She closed her eyes, head bowed. He slapped her gently on one cheek, little taps until she looked at him.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"We're—"

"Name," he demanded, voice firm. She swallowed, taking a deep breath.

"Riley Jensen."

"Job?"

She closed her eyes, let her head fall back. "Sniper."

"That was before. What are you now?"

"Fucked."

"Riley."

"We're fucked. This is fucked. It's over. We can't do it. Don't—" she shook her head, sweat beaded on her brow. Panicked breaths turned to wheezing and she pressed a hand to her chest. "Don't leave the cage. There isn't enough room in here," her eyes cast around them wildly. "Keep quiet. They don't notice you if you're quiet."

"Stop it," he snapped, and she focused those eyes on him again, grey and vivid even in the dark. Her breathing was still coming in sharp and shallow, but there was a flash of annoyance in her eyes. Brief, but there. A good sign.

"Try again," he said. When she still said nothing, he grasped at an idea. "Answer for an answer, Riley. Come on. What are you now?"

She frowned. "Courier."

He nodded. "Your turn."

She blinked, agitation spread across her face. "I don't—"

"You know how it works. Your turn. Ask me a question." It was already working, he noticed. Her breathing was slowing, her shoulders were relaxing. Her brow furrowed while she thought of a question, and he waited patiently.

"How did your wife die?"

He sucked in a sharp breath.

"Choose a different question."

She blinked rapidly, her breathing picked up. "I—"

"A different question, Riley." His tone was sharp. She'd promised not to ask that until he was ready. It'd only been a few days since that day in the Wrangler. Surely she hadn't forgotten? Or was the stress of the moment affecting her that much? Was she confused or was that really the only question that came to mind?

She closed her eyes, brows drawn together. Still, her gasping breaths increased and he had the feeling it was only going to get worse. Cursing inwardly, Boone shifted, sitting against the wall perpendicular to hers, and made a choice.

"A single .308 calibre bullet to the chest at two thousand yards."

In the darkness, Riley stopped breathing.


	33. Lost in the fire below

**Author's Note:** _Milestone! This story is now over 100k words WTF. Although actually that **is** counting author's notes so ok not really. Still. :D Thank you all for reading and putting up with 100k words of this fic holy shit._

* * *

Everything stopped. Everything, from the pounding of her heartbeat to her ragged gasps of air. She sat, disconnected from her senses, and at the same time, in that one frozen moment everything became clear. Her hands' tremble came to a stop and clarity reigned over her mind for the first time since the collar locked around her neck. In that clarity, she saw her world shaken.

_It was him._

Boone sighed wearily, shifting his legs up so he could rest his arms on raised knees. He spoke and she listened. A simple thing that was so much more, where each word altered her view of a man and a memory.

"It… I was too late. Lost the trail part way, tracking them took days." She could hear the bitterness in his voice at what he probably saw as another failure, but all she could picture was him alone in the desert, hellbent as he scoured the sands for signs of his wife. "I was hoping for raiders, trail was clumsy enough once I found it again. But when I realised where we were… " he sighed again. "When I realised where we were I knew what happened."

"Cottonwood," she said quietly, and Boone nodded.

"There was an auction going on, and I saw her—" his voice caught and he took a minute, staring straight ahead at nothing with that hard look in his eye. In the silence, the cries of men reached her ears, distant echoes of a memory as a bidding war rose from the clamour. _Starting bid, ten Aurei. _

"She was—"

Crying and pretty and pregnant, shaking up on a podium while men leered and bid for the right to have her. _Hale and healthy, and a proven breeder__…_

"She was up there," he forced the words out, and she snapped her attention back to the present. "Up there and— there were dozens of them." The life went out of his voice, a helplessness that killed her as he spoke. "Dozens of them, and just me."

This wasn't happening.

"Just me and my rifle and the distance between us."

She forced herself to look down.

"So I took the shot."

And saved Riley's life.

The words stuck in her throat. She couldn't speak, the dawning horror of what Boone had done was coming down on her full force. Her suspicions were confirmed, the truth laid bare before her. A year's worth of fear and running, a paranoia that ran deep as she refused all jobs too far East. In the midst of all that fear was gratitude to a faceless gunman, because without him she'd be across the Colorado. Without him, she might as well be dead.

The man who saved her life was right here, and she couldn't even thank him for it.

How were you supposed to tell a man as broken as he was something like that? That the action that broke him of his will to live gave her just the opposite? That the single shot that saved her life robbed him of his wife and only child.

She couldn't, she told herself. To do so would be a cruelty. He'd suffered enough by pulling that trigger. He saved her life. The least she could do was spare him the pain of old wounds.

More than that, she owed it to Carla. Memories of the lifeless languor in her eyes in those last few days were vivid, something she was sure was mirrored in her own eyes. The Legion harboured no sympathy for the broken, only found uses for them until even those were exhausted. Boone wasn't the only one who'd lost. Carla lost a life, a husband, a child. She lost her freedom and dignity. And whether Riley felt the blame for part of that or not, she wanted to pay her back for all of it, and here was her chance.

She'd get Boone out of the Sierra Madre. She'd help him get his revenge on the Legion, she'd exact vengeance for the ghost of his wife.

She was going to keep him _alive _if it was the last thing she did, and no bomb collar, death cloud or walking undead abominations was going to stop her.

All she had to do was keep a secret.

She took a breath, then two. And lifted her gaze to meet his.

"You did the right thing."

His head tilted as he stared at her, that same deadness still laying thick in his voice. "Yeah," he said. "I did." He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall for a brief moment. "What the Legion does to women… well. Guess you'd know more about that than anyone."

She swallowed and looked away. That was something they didn't need to get into. No level of trust would get her to open up about that, and she pushed herself to her feet, swiping the back of her hand across her nose and mouth as she cleared her throat.

"I have an idea to get to this radio."

He didn't move. Maybe there was something in her tone that stilled him, or maybe he expected more of a response. But if there was one thing Riley knew about keeping secrets, it was as close to lying as she would ever get, and that meant she couldn't risk staying on this topic of conversation. Finally, Boone stood up, and she waited while he looked her over, looking for signs of her earlier panic. He would find none.

"You're good to go?"

She nodded, smiling just a little as she stepped towards the open door. "Follow my lead."

* * *

The route to the bell tower, they soon discovered, wasn't only just covered in radios, but crawling with ghost people. It only took one shot from Boone's rifle before multiple groans rose and shadows played across the walls from every direction. It was wild, but they planned out a routine that worked beautifully. Boone would take them down from a distance, and Riley would rush in to dismember it.

It, quite frankly, sucked. It was gruesome and messy and it felt like it would never end, but they kept pushing on. Through buildings and a courtyard and a wine cellar until finally they came to a ladder.

It was up top that they finally got a good view of the villa around them. She could pick out the route they took, and further, picked out the one needed to get back. She kept that in her mind as she monitored the little blips on her Pip-Boy's map. God was still where they left him. Dean and Cass appeared to be in position, though Cass looked like she was moving around a lot. It was difficult to tell if Veronica and Christine were in the right place or not because the building was massive and the only thing she did know was that they were, at the very least, inside.

She was just about to switch on the radio to try and eavesdrop when the crackling whine of a speaker above them made her flinch.

"You're in position," Elijah's voice echoed above them and she glared upwards. It might have been the proximity, but it felt incredibly _loud _and as they'd escaped notice of more ghost people, she didn't want their position given away.

"I am," she hissed. "Can you keep it down?"

"You're safe where you are," he said, tone bored. "The panel in front of you has a switch and various buttons. There are three that are marked, do you see them?"

She moved closer, frowning over the array of technology and hoping he wasn't going to ask her to do anything too technical. Three buttons were, indeed, marked. Tape had been stuck above each one and a scrawling hand labelled them as _Switching Station, Power, Mutant. _

"Okay," she said cautiously. "What is this?"

"You'll need to communicate with them. I hope I don't need to explain the rest." His voice clearly indicated what he'd think of her if he did, in fact, have to explain.

"No," she said. "I think I can figure it out."

"Make sure everyone is in place. When the Gala goes off, you _must _get inside the casino."

She scowled. "You've told me this before."

"Deal with it. I've found repetition gets results with the, shall we say, less intelligent of our species."

"Fuck you, too."

Classy.

Elijah sighed. Apparently he thought so, too.

"Do not wait for the others," he continued. "It's going to be chaotic anyway, best to just run through to the gates."

That made her pause. She glanced at Boone, found him sharing the same look of concern. "What about Veronica?"

"She's resourceful enough to make it through on her own. She's more than capable of surviving this. I see no need for you to expend additional resources and effort in her safety when yours will be far more at risk as it is."

It was so cold, so heartless. She found herself gaping at the empty air, remembering all the stories Veronica told her of him. She'd mentioned he wasn't exactly a 'people person' but according to her this man practically raised her.

She cleared her throat. "The collars—"

"Are still linked. I can tell what you're thinking. Stop. Sentiment is a weakness and this heist has no room for it. If any of you stop, you'll die. The inhabitants of the villa won't wait for you to play hero before descending on you, and neither will I. You'll do as I say or you'll never leave the Sierra Madre alive, am I understood?"

"Perfectly," she said quietly.

"Good. I'll be monitoring the situation as always. _Don't screw up_."

The high-pitched squeal of the speaker shutting off pierced the air one more time, and they were left with the thick silence once again. She moved to the edge, staring up at the casino blankly while a million different thoughts raced through her mind. The sun was starting to dip low. Even through the Cloud she could see it, a hazy orb whose light was out of reach. Soon they'd be running for their lives through the city, and she needed a moment to brace herself for it.

"Riley."

"I know," she looked over at Boone, found him frowning with arms crossed. "Just give me a minute."

"The others might not have a minute," he reminded her and she sighed. He was right. Moving back over to the panel of switches, she braced herself, and pressed the first of the buttons that connected her to her friends.

Everything was ready. She didn't ask for details on how everyone made it to their positions. The fact that they were safe was the important thing. They could hash out war stories once they were out of this god-forsaken city. For now, she verified once more over the intercoms that they were set and then she pulled the switch.

It was loud. There was simply no other way to put it. When they talked about the Gala streaming music into the streets, she wasn't exactly sure what she expected, but it certainly wasn't the cheerful parade music now assaulting her ears. Explosions filled the sky as fireworks flashed and banged uselessly against the sky. She was sure that had it been nighttime it would have been great to see, something to enjoy for twenty seconds in the middle of this entire ordeal. As it was, with the sun still up and the Cloud painting the sky red, she saw nothing.

Boone crouched down, lifting the latch to the ladder below, and looked up at her.

"Ready?"

"Nope," she puffed out her cheeks, exhaling sharply and staring down at the hole in the floor. "But hell with it. Let's go."

They descended quickly, backtracking the way they came. It didn't take long for other sounds to reach them through the cacophony of music. The rattling gasps and groans of ghost people came at them from all directions, and Riley skidded to a halt in a narrow corridor, eyes wide. Habit had her focusing, trying to pick out an individual, trying to place them in her mind so she could know what to expect, but the dissonance was too much. It echoed around them, rising and falling like one breath. But that wasn't the only thing she was hearing. The garbled droning of radios was back, even though she was sure they'd taken them all out on the way there.

"Go," Boone whispered at her shoulder. She looked at him wide-eyed and he nodded once reassuringly. "Go," he said again, and she felt his hand at the small of her back, nudging her forward. She stumbled, hesitating, glancing back at Boone to see him jerk his chin forward once.

There wasn't time to hesitate. She could do this.

They ran. Dodging and weaving through the alleys and crumbling walls. The attention of the ghost people quickly roused, and soon they were dodging spears and wild punches. Hands grabbed at them but they pulled each other forward, gaining ground with each breath. They tossed grenades over their shoulders, shouting at each other to pick up the pace as the ground shook beneath them and walls fell behind them. Their collars beeped in tandem but never for long, their hurried pace keeping them out of range of the radios before panic ever started to creep in.

Their path was marked for them, the graffiti on the walls urging them onward. Riley yanked Boone through a door, slamming it shut behind them. It exploded as she turned, throwing her forward so she was sprawled on the floor, bits of wood, concrete and drywall raining down on her. Her ears were ringing but she knew she couldn't stop. She struggled to push herself up but her boots kept slipping on the loose debris until Boone hauled her to her feet.

The gates leading out of Salida del Sol were close, and they stumbled out of the building, Boone supporting her until the ringing in her ears wasn't making the world spin. The groaning had died down, only a few distant rattling breaths that weren't close enough for worry. They shut the gates behind them and leaned against them, breathing heavily. She glanced over at him. He was covered in dirt and sweat and there was blood streaking down the side of his head from a gash that didn't look too bad. Still, she reached into her bag, pulled out a stimpak and slapped it weakly against his chest until he took it.

"Not done yet," he grunted and she nodded while he stuck the stimpak just below his ear.

"Good?" she asked. He nodded, tossing the empty syringe to the side, and they moved on.

The fountain area was deserted, and Riley wondered if everyone made it inside or not as they reached the gates to the casino. She tugged on the metal bars and the gates swung open. A rush of relief swept through her as they made their way inside. The road to the casino itself was short, quiet. Clear. They jogged up the path, exhausted but unwilling to stop lest they be locked outside. The casino loomed above them, their only beacon. Veronica and Christine caught up with them half-way. Nobody spoke, just a series of grateful smiles and pats on the back as they trekked onward.

They took the last few steps slowly, dragging their bone-weary legs forward against their will. They pulled open the door, stepping into the darkness until they all stood on the carpeted foyer, gasping and panting as their eyes adjusted.

It took only seconds for them to notice God on the ground, and Riley staggered forward to check on him. She managed three stumbling steps before she heard it. The click. The hiss.

"No," she gasped, turning helplessly. Boone fell first this time. Veronica and Christine slumped to the ground next and she couldn't even muster up the energy for alarm before she fell to her own knees.

"Son… of a bitch."

Her vision blurred as she collapsed, and then all she saw was darkness.


	34. And you come running

**Author's Note:** _This is a short one compared to the last few chapters, I'm afraid. Sorry! Thank you to all my readers and reviewers. You guys really are the best. :) _

* * *

The air was still, quiet. A deafening hollow that greeted her as she blinked her eyes open, rolling over musty, luxurious carpet. She pushed herself up, wincing at the throbbing that made itself happily known behind her eyes, and looked around, taking in details with a detached sort of confusion. Sweeping staircase, high ceilings, brick red tile for the floors. The walls were white—keyword being _were._ The paint had decayed into a rusted mockery of grandeur, peeling and cracked, revealing the brick underneath.

She was still in the lobby where she'd passed out, and she gave thanks for small miracles. Sure, being hit by the same trap in forty-eight hours was insulting, but at least this time she wasn't spirited away to the inner circle of hell.

What she noticed the most, however, was that she was alone.

No sign of Boone, no Cass. Veronica wasn't passed out behind her. Where were her friends? Did Elijah get to them? Hell, not even God was where he was when the gas hit them, though the tile was cracked and broken from where he lay. But no. For the first time in weeks, she was really, truly, alone.

She stood, wincing as the pain swelled in her head, and then immediately skittered back to the safety of a dark corner when all the speakers in the room whined and crackled in an ear-splitting clamour.

"Are you there?" Elijah's voice echoed oddly in the large room. Riley didn't move, didn't speak. She'd spent countless stressful hours regarding any sort of noise as equivalent to a death sentence, and she lifted a hand to cover the sound of her breathing. "I have a reading from your Pip-Boy, so I know you're awake," he went on smugly. "Hmmm. The transceivers in the collars aren't working, interesting. Could be a side-effect… yes. Yes, I see."

She lowered her hand, brow furrowed. Not working? Or did he just think that because she wasn't talking?

"Hello?" she tried.

"It's an inconvenience," he allowed, still not acknowledging her. "But no matter."

"Hey!" She let her voice rise to a shout.

"Whatever they made this place with, it's interfering with the collar signals. They're no longer linked between floors, either. Hmmm. Now that _is _inconvenient. Now listen."

What? _What? _Her hands flew to her collar as she tried to figure out what that meant.

"Don't get any bright ideas," he went on. "I might not be able to hear you, I might not be able to set the collar off while you're inside, but if you leave this place I _will _kill you. The signal works just fine outside this building."

Great. Well, not like she'd leave without her friends anyway. Her hands dropped as she stepped away from the shadows, moving towards the reception desk. Elijah continued talking while she started poking around.

"The casino is running off emergency power right now, I'm afraid. So you'll have to find a way to get the power up and running again. There should be a maintenance closet on the casino floor itself that handles that. But the real problem is your companions, I'm afraid."

She paused in browsing the dusty selection of keys hanging on their tiny little hooks in their tiny little cubbyholes. Elijah had her attention now.

"I don't know if they're _all_ alive. Like I said, the signals don't work between floors so if one of them is dead it wouldn't affect you."

She swallowed as her throat went dry.

"However," he went on, _"some_ are alive, for whatever good that'll do you. Casino security moved them, thinking they were employees. And the frequency of their collars are interfering with the speakers. Meaning I can't access the sound archives. Turn the power back on, that should allow you to turn off the majority of the speakers. Then find your companions and get them off the floors they're on. Or kill them. I'm not picky. Once I see that things are moving forward I'll contact you about the next step."

She snorted as the speakers did their high-pitched squeal of protest before leaving her in the silence once more.

* * *

Veronica sat with her back to the wall, arms wrapped around her knees. Her eyes were clouded over with worry, dead from fatigue and a feeling of hopelessness. Cass lay unconscious on the ground in front of her, and the smell of gas hung heavy in the air.

"Going to make casino burn," a voice droned from the other room, and Veronica's hands tightened on her sleeves. She'd already tried the door, found it hermetically sealed. Probably a failsafe because of the gas leak, she reasoned.

"No more being…"

She'd tightened the valve in the room they were in—what looked like a supply closet and management office with a wall knocked out between them—but the smell of gas lingered and if she wanted to check for more sources of the leak she'd have to venture out into the kitchen where God… Dog… whoever… was roaming around. She didn't want to provoke him, more so she didn't want to leave Cass in case she woke up.

"Stop what you're doing," God's voice took over now, desperate and strained. "Stop this madness. We can—"

"Tired of you," Dog moaned. "Tired of this. Burn it all."

She hoped he wouldn't. She couldn't die here. There were still too many questions unanswered, too many people left behind and god it would just be tragic to die wearing an unflattering one-piece jumpsuit.

She stretched one leg out, nudging Cass with her foot until she rolled over. The redhead stirred, nose wrinkling as her face pressed into the dirty floor. Her eyes opened, focusing on Veronica, and the Scribe lifted a finger to her lips.

"We can be free," God pleaded. "Free of—"

"Master," Dog whined. "Master set me free."

Cass' eyes widened at Dog's plaintive voice, and Veronica nodded, lips pursed. She remembered how Cass reacted in the Police Station, and right now her fear of the mutant was absolutely justified but she couldn't afford to let her friend panic. Veronica moved into a crouch while Cass sat up.

"Keep quiet," she whispered. "I need to shut the gas off or the doors won't open."

"He's going to kill us all," Cass hissed.

"Yep," Veronica breathed. "Pretty much."

"Where's Riley?"

Veronica shook her head. "Just us. Talk later. Stay here." She crawled into the darkened kitchen on hands and knees, moving slowly. God was arguing with himself on the other side of the room, and she took her time picking her way across the floor. There was garbage in her path, tin cans and broken glass, spilled boxes of Abraxo cleaner. She moved carefully, quietly, but she couldn't see clearly and she winced as her hand pressed down on a shard of glass, cracking it loudly in the silence.

"Can hear you now," Dog's voice reached her and she froze, hand bleeding, eyes wide. Her heart thudded loudly as she stared at the doorway closest to her. It was only a few feet away but right now it seemed like a mile. A can shot across the floor as Dog started to move and her shoulders jerked upwards. She needed to move, to hide. She mustered up what courage she had left and scrambled across the floor into the room, knocking tin cans aside and slipping on the icy floor. A walk-in refrigerator.

Her eyes landed on a valve and she hurried over to it, twisting it tight. Once it was off, she crept to the side door. She could hear God's footsteps as he stalked through the kitchen, and her breathing grew frantic as he drew nearer to where she was.

"Not much longer…" Dog taunted.

Shit.

* * *

It was dark inside the casino, darker than the lobby. Riley couldn't see two feet in front of her and pressed herself against the wall, using it to guide herself forward until the blue glow of a hologram drifted into view. She ducked before it saw her, hiding behind a column, and waited until the light faded before she peeked out again.

Her eyes were starting to adjust, and she could make out a staircase just ahead that she ran for, her footsteps careful even though she knew the holograms couldn't hear her. The second level held a bar. Tables dotted the floor, turned over chairs that she had to crawl over. A door labelled 'Employees Only' stood behind the counter, and she made that her goal. If the casino thought her friends were employees, well, it would just make sense to put them in the employee area.

She refused to stand, in case the hologram saw her over the railing, and quickly picked her way across the floor. Her collar started beeping as she neared the counter, and she backed up, frowning as she looked around for the blue light of the speaker. Seeing none, she circled around, stepping in and out of the radius until she spotted it high on the wall above the sink behind the bar. She took it out with a single shot before ducking through the door, breathing a single sigh of relief that it was unlocked.

Beyond was a series of hallways. She slipped through doors, swiping keys off desks and unlocking safes and cabinets, pilfering the contents. A series of trial and error happened before she figured out she could manoeuvre the holograms patrolling the floor to other locations using the various terminals she came across. Her headache abated as her need for focus drove her to a single-minded mission of figuring out the casino's security, and it took her some time before she heard the footsteps coming down the hall. She paused what she was doing, one hand still stuck in the drawer she was looting, ear cocked to one side. No, those were definitely footsteps.

Hurrying out of the room, she peeked her head around the corner, but saw nothing.

"Hello?" she called out. No one answered, and she turned back to the room she came from, frowning. Holograms didn't make footsteps, did they? No, she told herself, they didn't. She turned on her heel again, intent on investigating, and ran smack into Boone.

"Oh shit," she blurted, falling back a step. Boone frowned down at her and she smiled, relieved to see him. "Sorry, sorry. That was—" she shook her head. "Have you seen anyone else?"

"No," he said. "Woke up alone. Where were you?"

"I woke up in the foyer. Everyone got moved except me."

"Why?"

"Casino security thought you were…" she looked him over. He was still wearing the Sierra Madre's security armour. "Well… security, I guess. So it moved you here. The rest got moved to wherever the casino felt they should be."

He sighed, running a hand over his face and then over the back of his head. "Think I've had enough of this place."

"You and me, both. But hey, great news. The collars don't work in here."

He paused, frowning down at her like he didn't believe her. "How do you know?"

She explained what Elijah had told her, after which his 'disbelieving frown' turned to his 'contemplative frown' as he stared down at her collar.

"So we can take them off."

She took a small step away from him, hands raised. "I can't disarm these. Can you? And even so, if we're on the same floor, the other collar will still go off."

"So," he rubbed a hand over his chin. "We need someone to take them off who doesn't have a collar."

Her eyes lit up. "Christine," she breathed. "Shit. Okay. Let's get the power back on in this place and then find her. When we find Elijah, I don't want him with the upper hand."

"And Veronica?"

"That's up to her," Riley grimaced, turning to walk down the hall. Boone fell into step beside her. "Least we can do is level the playing field."

—

Turning the power on was relatively simple, once she had help. If by simple, you counted running across a ledge barely a foot wide while the patrolling hologram beneath you unleashed lasers on your partner while he ducked and weaved around pillars to keep its attention on him, then sure. Piece of cake.

But when she flipped that switch and the lights flared on, she couldn't help but smile because progress was being made.

The casino was alive again. Holograms for dealers and vendors dotted the floor, waiting expectantly for gamblers. She had to admit to being curious to try, to see how holograms dealt cards, but she doubted Boone would appreciate standing around while she played a hand of blackjack, so they just moved on. They didn't know where to start looking for Christine. Riley tried consulting her Pip-Boy for life signs, but couldn't get a read on anyone other than herself and Boone.

"Where have you looked?" Boone asked as they walked back out into the lobby.

"Nowhere. Casino was the first place I went to because I had to get the power up. It was just luck that you were there."

"Because I'm wearing this," he plucked at the bulletproof vest he was wearing. He thought for a moment before he said, "Cass was wearing the jumpsuit still."

Riley nodded. "So was Veronica. Okay. Well, if we can find maintenance or… whatever. Or someplace that needs maintenance?" She scratched the back of her head as they headed for the staircase. "Ugh. This entire casino needs maintenance. Where do we even start? Is there a basement?"

"Good," Elijah's voice came back over the speakers and she paused with her hand on the railing. "Power's back on, security is reset. Yes. Good. Now. We have a problem."

"He can't hear us?" Boone asked quietly beside her. She shook her head slowly.

"Not a word."

"There's a gas leak in the kitchens," Elijah went on. "Deal with it before it becomes a problem. We don't need this place turning volatile. I've come too far to risk losing it all now. Hmmm. I can see from your Pip-Boy that you found of your companions. This is good news. I also see that you chose to leave him alive, which is _not_ good news—" Boone's jaw clenched at that, "—but I'll take what I can get. Now, go deal with that gas leak."

Riley sighed wearily as his voice cut off. "I really hate that man."


	35. Your eyes will be open

**Author's Note:** _I originally wrote (and finished) this chapter on Tuesday and felt like I loved it. Today, on Friday, I read it and I'm not so sure. So I'm putting this up before it degenerates even further into 'ohgoddeleteitall'. It... could use a bit more work. There are a few parts where I feel the flow is off but I've been dealing with a migraine all day and well, yeah. Also, two, maybe three, more chapters and we're out of the Madre and back to the Mojave. (Also I know I've said this like probably 8 times to 8 different reviewers probably like 8 chapters ago. So y'know... grain of salt.) =x_

_I know the Sierra Madre isn't the most favourite of DLC's, but I felt like it had a lot of potential for Riley and co. given, y'know, certain factors. The bomb collars, for one. The reveal was planned to be here for ages and golly gosh gee Dean Domino surprised the hell out of me because he is fun to write. I feel a little bad for Cass because I originally meant for her to be left behind at Forlorn Hope and so a lot of her scenes here aren't really thought out that well. :( And I swear to god I didn't mean for the Madre to take up like 15 chapters. Words just run away with me. :(_

_ANYWAYS, I've babbled enough. Thank-you as always, for reading, and please review if you feel like it. :)_

* * *

Anxiety wasn't something that just magically went away. Boone knew this. And still Riley was continuing to throw curve balls at him, taking what he knew and turning it on its head.

There was a bit of a delay in getting to the kitchens. The way in through the restaurant was locked, the door hermetically sealed, and it took a bit of brainstorming between her and Boone before he remembered a door back in the casino's employee area that also couldn't be opened for the same reason, only this one had a keyhole.

They set about looking for a key, Boone making sure to keep an eye on Riley while they poked around. A few radios were still active, and each time the beeping started, his eyes strayed to her, looking for the panic, the tension, the fear.

And each time he saw nothing.

Just calm reserve, a strong set of her shoulders, and a resigned determination.

It didn't make _sense._

How did one go from panic attacks to leading the charge? During the Gala, the frantic flight to the gates could easily have accounted for her lack of crippling anxiety. The urge to keep moving, the adrenaline urging them onward, even the fear itself might have helped her keep her head. But once he awoke inside, alone, and found the radios were still a problem? He worried he'd find Riley huddled in a corner somewhere, hyperventilating, delirious and useless while her panic held control over her.

She defied his expectations. It was a relief, actually, seeing signs of the Riley he knew instead of the hyperventilating woman he had to twice coax out of a paralysing fear. But still, even with her active and lucid, the first time their collars started beeping in tandem, he expected the usual jump, the skittish step, the wild look in her eyes, and could only frown when she merely stepped back calmly and looked around.

He didn't understand it. _Anxiety wasn't something that just magically went away._ So what happened?

She caught him staring at her a few times, a curious lift of her brow asking him what it was he wanted. He wasn't sure how to ask though, other than "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she smiled the first time. The second time the smile was a bit more bemused, so he stopped asking. It wasn't important. She said she was fine, and she was acting fine, so she was fine. And if she wasn't, well, he wasn't going anywhere.

They found the key eventually, hiding under some papers in the coat check area, and made their way back to the casino.

* * *

Inside the kitchens, they found Cass.

Riley's face broke out into a smile. "Hey—"

"Shhh!" she ran at them, clamping a hand on Riley's mouth before she could say anything more, eyes wide in panic.

"Tired of place. Tired of cage," Dog's voice droned dully in the other room. "End it all."

"Stop it," God's voice pleaded. "You can't do this. Think of the others. There's another way, there's—"

"No. No listen to voice. Tired. So tired."

Riley frowned, tugging Cass' hand away as she leaned to one side to peer through the door into the kitchen. God was arguing with himself—literally—as he stalked up and down the aisles of stoves and workstations. Lights flickered in one corner of the room only, casting the mutant in a threatening darkness.

"What's going on?" Boone whispered, and Riley stepped back. They all squatted down in a circle and looked expectantly at Cass to fill them in. She was trying to keep her breathing quiet, but there was sweat on her brow and her eyes held a tired, dazed look to them.

"He has the gas on," she breathed, and Riley wrinkled her nose. That accounted for the smell. "He's going to blow the place up. Veronica's out there—"

"What?" Riley hissed. She lurched to stand up but Boone clamped a hand on her shoulder, eyes stern.

"She's turning the valves off," Cass continued before she could argue. "Doors wouldn't open from the inside."

Riley frowned at that, and pulled out of Boone's hold to try the door. Nope. It wouldn't budge. Great. Just great. They should have used a door stopper or something.

"Guess we need all the valves off," she muttered, running a hand through her hair as she turned back to them. "Okay, I'm gonna put Dog back in the cage. You guys stay here."

"Veronica has two valves off," Cass hissed, standing so she that she was in her way. "Just turn off the other valve and leave the mutant."

"He's crazy, not stupid," Riley snapped as quietly as she could. "Nothing's gonna stop him from just opening the valves again. I need to deal with him, so unless you're volunteering to go out there, _move."_

There was a tense moment as they stared each other down. Eventually, however, Cass' frown lifted, and a look of resigned acceptance took its place as she stepped aside.

They watched her creep out into the dark kitchen, staying low to the ground. She couldn't see worth shit as her eyes were slow to adjust, and there was no sign of Veronica anywhere, but really she couldn't worry about that as she crept up on the nightkin. Her focus had to be on keeping quiet, and she waited until Dog moved away from the stoves before stepping in behind him, her Pip-Boy raised as she walked forward, blocking his path.

"Dog, back in the cage," her recording played, and the nightkin turned to glare at her menacingly.

"You," Dog said petulantly. "Dog remembers you. Made Dog sleep. Put Dog in cage."

Her step faltered as her heart leapt into her throat. That wasn't God.

"Why aren't you going to sleep?" she asked. She reached to play the recording again, but Dog stepped towards her and she took two quick steps back, feet bumping against discarded utensils.

"Should eat you," Dog declared, and her heart raced even faster. "Make you run first. Tear off your arms while you scream."

"No," God growled, and Riley skittered around the edge of the counter. "Why are you here? He's going to—"

"Kill you," said Dog. "Kill you, make casino burn. You die. Dog dies. Casino dies."

"Why?" Riley asked. Her voice sounded higher than normal as she skirted around the counter, keeping it between her and the mutant. "Why do you want to—"

"You can't _reason _with him," God cut in, his voice strained. "Need… ugh… speak to him. What he needs to hear."

"Dog," Riley swallowed. "I don't think you should hurt me. I think—"

"You think? Dog doesn't _care _what _you _think. Dog hungry." Dog took a few steps to the right, and Riley moved quickly to the left. He stopped and glared at her.

"Dog _hungry." _

He went left, she went right. He let out a roar of frustration, banging his massive fists against the porcelain counter tops. Stone cracked and flew. A pipe burst and water began to gush loudly as it sprayed onto the floor.

Riley swallowed. This wasn't going according to plan. What did she tell him the first time? What did she say? What words did she use to make him do what she wanted? She was in such a weird frame of mind at the time, thinking they were all going to die, the horde at the door, she couldn't remember anything except…

What he wanted.

"Master wouldn't want you to hurt me, Dog," she said over the noise, trying to keep her tone steady. The nightkin paused, his shoulders slumped down and his voice took on a different, whimpering tone.

"Master?" Dog tilted his head. "Dog doesn't want Master to be mad with Dog."

"He won't be, if you're good. Master sent me to get you," Riley told him, licking her lips. "He said you should do what I say."

"Good," God encouraged. "Keep going. If you can just—"

"Dog doesn't want to," Dog cut in. "You'll put Dog back to sleep. Dog doesn't _want _to sleep."

"But if Master wants you to—"

"Dog doesn't want to!" he roared. He clutched at his head, one arm reached out, flinging knives and cutting boards, plates and pots off the counter. She lifted her arms to protect her face, but wasn't able to stop the single knife from sinking into her forearm. She cried out, falling back against the wall while her arm went numb. She cradled it to her chest while blood soaked through her new armour.

"Are you hurt?" Dog whined. "Dog didn't mean to. Don't tell Master. Don't tell Master."

Clenching her teeth, she gripped the handle of the knife and pulled it out with a strangled gasp, letting it clatter to the kitchen floor as her head fell back. The numbness was abating, and a new, sharp and brilliant pain was starting to take its place. Great. Just great. Dog made a keening sort of whine while she stood there, bleeding, and she closed her eyes wearily. She was having trouble finding sympathy for the mutant right about now.

"Don't tell Master," Dog repeated and Riley blinked her eyes open. The noise from the water was fading, and Dog was holding his head in his hands. Was he crying? Before she could even process that, movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she turned her gaze to see Boone and Veronica working together on a valve on the far wall. Was that all of them?

Veronica lifted a thumbs up.

Oh. Oh good.

"You're screwing up!" God growled, lifting his head to glare at her. She snapped her gaze back to him but it was too late. He turned, saw Boone and Veronica, and took one, long, rumbly breath as he turned back to Riley. "Good. That's one problem out of the way. Now, tell him… just… tell him to pull on the chain around his neck."

The air went out of the room as her eyes went wide.

"W-what?"

"Dog can do that, if you want him to," Dog said eagerly.

"But—"

"I know what it means," God snapped. "I know what this place is made of. Tell him to do it, and then you run."

She closed her eyes as a sense of helplessness enveloped her. "You want to die."

"The only way," Dog said. "For Dog to be free."

"The only way," God agreed.

When she opened her eyes, Boone was standing closer, watching her, his body lowered slightly in case he needed to make a run for her. He was ready in case they needed to run, but there was something else, she noticed. A strange look on his face while they waited for her to say something. Was he seeing something of himself in this creature?

"No," she said finally, tearing her gaze away from him. "Just—" she shook her head. "Just no."

"Ugh. Tell him to listen to me, then," God told her, and relief washed over her. That could work. God could control him, get him to sleep maybe.

"Dog, I want you to listen to the voice, okay?"

"If that's what Master wants, Dog can."

Riley nodded, a smile forming. Her Pip-Boy was starting to flash her vital signs on the screen and she forced herself to ignore it. She could deal with the blood loss later. "It is," she said wearily. "Master wants that very much."

"Good," God said calmly. His voice had an odd quality to it, something that through her pain, she didn't recognise. Relief, acceptance, as if he was finally getting what he wanted. But something else was there, strange and wrong. His posture relaxed and Boone stepped forward quickly. It was the look of alarm on his face that made her suddenly jerk away from the wall, eyes wide.

"Wait—"

"Dog," said God. "Pull the chain around your neck."

Riley ran around the counter, ignoring Boone's cursing protest. "No. No no no no, what are you—"

She was too late. Dog lifted his arms, gripping the metal links tightly with both hands and Riley launched herself at him, tugging at his arms frantically, desperately. The pain in her arm was momentarily forgotten as she struggled to get him to drop the chain.

"Stop it! Stop. Master wants you to stop. Listen to me. You can't do this! This isn't what I wanted!"

"You need to run," God said calmly, even as the chain tightened around his neck. Boone reached her, strong arms gripping her around the waist while she clawed even harder to get the mutant to release his hold.

"Stop stop stop—" her voice was rising, panic taking over. This wasn't what she wanted. This wasn't supposed to go this way. She screwed up, and now he was going to die.

God fell to his knees as the chain tightened, his breathing became laboured and there was one brief moment where he met her gaze and held it. "Free yourself," he gasped, and before she could open her mouth to respond, she was hauled off. Boone set her down and shoved her forward, but she turned, intent on stopping God from this foolishness. She didn't know how, or if she even could. She only knew she had to _try_, because not trying was the same as not caring, and God had already saved their lives once. She owed it to him to at least try to save his.

But she didn't get far. She had a clear view of him from where she was, and her hurry died as she watched him fall, a loud thud as he hit the floor. A chorus of beeping started up, the collars around their necks sounding their warnings. This time she didn't struggle as Boone urged her out the door. He slammed it shut behind them and she fell back against the wall opposite him. Veronica and Cass were halfway down the stairs, and staring at them wide-eyed when they didn't move. In the resulting silence, however, their bewildered looks turned to confusion, but Riley couldn't bring herself to explain why their collars weren't exploding.

"Something lining the walls," Boone told them, and that was that.

She'd failed. Messed up. She didn't know God, not well enough to mourn him properly. But he saved their lives at the police station. He saw something in her that made him want to try, and in the end she wasn't able to live up to it. He deserved more than what he got.

"Dammit," she breathed, lowering her head. Her fist clenched and she pounded once against the wall. "_Dammit."_

Nobody said anything, until finally Riley couldn't stand the silence any longer and pushed herself away from the wall, swiping the back of her hand across her face.

"Let's go," she said. "We need to find Dean and Chr—" her words cut off as she careened into the wall. Vertigo slammed into her and she struggled to keep upright. What? Dazed, she looked down at the blood still dripping from her arm, now smearing itself along the peeling wallpaper and pooling thickly at her feet. Oh.

"That's… a lot of blood," said Cass, and Veronica moved to her side, feeling her pulse.

"Low," the Scribe glanced up at Boone. "Might have hit an artery. Any ideas?"

"Grab her, there's an auto-doc up the stairs."

"Hear that?" Veronica told Riley as she lifted her into her arms. Riley blinked at her, confused. Why did she sound so far away? "Auto-doc just up the stairs. Today's your lucky day."

Lucky, she thought as her vision faded. Yeah. That was her.


	36. And when you come back

**Author's Note: **_Early update. Because I love you guys. :D_

* * *

It was cold when she woke up. Her skin felt numb, a disembodied feeling she'd felt only twice before. The first happened when she was eight. She'd fallen down a steep incline while travelling with her parents. She'd run off, saw something shiny as kids are wont to do. For her clumsiness, she was rewarded with a concussion, a broken arm, three cracked ribs, a bruised tail bone, and because her luck decided to land her unceremoniously on top of a discarded wardrobe, lacerations across her entire body from the broken glass. She'd bled long and deeply, and her mother cursed her to high heaven while she nursed her back to health.

The second time was the night she met Benny. Considering how that played out, this was cause for some alarm. Was she dying? She opened her eyes, as if to disprove this theory, and immediately regretted it. Bright light blared into her retinas, and she jerked her head to the side, screwing her eyes tight.

Well. She wasn't dead.

"She's up," a voice said. It was distant, or sounded distant, and she opened one eye just a crack. There was a bookcase, wooden, empty, covered in dust, further disproving that she was dying. She doubted the afterlife was this dirty. Someone was leaning against it, and her gaze drifted blearily up to see Boone staring down at her, his face set grim and hard.

"Hey," said the voice again. "Can you sit up?"

Boone's mouth didn't move in tandem with the words. In fact his mouth didn't move at all. It confused her for a second before a hazy thought slipped into her mind that the voice was female and related to freckles.

"Cass?" Riley turned her head, but the light was still there and she fell back, covering her face with one arm. God dammit.

"Sorry, sorry." There was the sound of a click, and the squeak of something being wheeled away. "It's off. Can you sit up?"

She tried. She honestly did. She pressed her hands against whatever she was laying on and attempted to lurch upwards, but her body was so weak she barely made it to her elbows, and Cass helped her the rest of the way. It was now that she noticed she was stripped down to the waist, her armour folded uselessly at her hips. A bra offered her a modicum of modesty and she groaned inwardly. Maybe it was just her lot in life to be either disrobed or dying.

"Lost a lot of blood," Boone told her, and she blinked down at her bare arm. Her wound was sewed up, cleaned, and already healing. It occurred to her that she should feel embarrassed, or at least move to get her armour back on. But honestly, she spent a year in a unit with mostly men. Privacy was a commodity she sometimes didn't have, and Boone had already seen her in less the night he set her shoulder. If his sensitivities were offended, well she was just too tired to care.

"Wound didn't look that bad," she said numbly.

"The knife," Cass blew out a breath as she crossed the room. "Found more of the fucking things. They slice through wood like butter." Her eyebrows lifted significantly as she turned back, uncapping a bottle of water. Riley watched her tiredly. "Bet your arm was like slicing through pudding."

"Oh."

"Here. Drink this," Cass moved closer, lifting the bottle and pressing it to Riley's lips. She frowned, barely had a chance to register what she was doing as her head was tipped back and water poured down her throat. She choked, spilling some onto her chest, and Cass stepped back, smiling apologetically.

"Sorry."

"Ron?" Riley asked, lifting her head. Cass shrugged.

"She's with her girl down the hall."

Whoa, what?

"Christine?" she frowned, looking over at Boone. He nodded affirmatively. She pressed a hand to her face. "When did— How long was I out?"

"One whole hour," Cass replied. She straightened, looking around the room. "You need more rest, but since you're up, might as well get some food in you. I'll be right back. Boone, help her lay back down."

She left the room and Boone moved to her side. His hands gripped her shoulders and he eased her back down slowly.

"Thanks," she said as he stepped away. He took up his spot against the bookcase again and resumed his grim vigil. She wondered vaguely if he'd eaten.

"You don't have to stay," she murmured after a while.

"Don't have anywhere else to be."

"You should eat."

"I did."

She waited a beat.

"I'm naked," she reminded him, and he snorted.

"You are not. Now shut up and rest."

She smiled at that, and let her eyes close. She had questions, of course. Things needed to get done. But she was so _tired _and it was so easy to just let every care slide to the back of her mind. She must have drifted, because the next thing she knew Cass was nudging her awake again.

"Food's here," she told her. She helped her up again, and a plate of Salisbury steak was placed on her lap. Riley stared at it helplessly.

"I ain't feedin' ya," Cass said when she made no move to pick up a utensil. Riley looked imploringly up at Boone.

"No."

"You guys suck," Riley sighed, picking up the fork and knife. She ate slowly. The Pip-Boy weighed down heavily on her arm, and after a few tries she dropped it uselessly to her lap and ate one handed, using the side of the fork to cut her meat, the knife forgotten.

"So how'd Christine find us?" she asked in between bites.

"She was up in Vera's suites," Cass explained. "She made her way down to the main lobby and found Veronica while you were out."

"Why was Christine in Vera's suites?" Riley frowned. There was a brief exchange of glances between Cass and Boone, something unsaid passed between them and Riley had the distinct impression she was missing something. Her eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Later," Cass shook her head. "Finish your food. We'll talk after."

She took another bite, forced herself to swallow. "Dean's going to be pissed," she said quietly.

"Yeah? What else ya expect?" Cass cocked a brow at her.

She sighed. "Said I'd find him first. He finds out I went after him last and he's going to be offended."

"Boo-fucking-hoo. Could just leave him, wherever he is," Cass suggested. "After what he did to Christine, I mean, no one would blame you."

"Have you _met _Dean?" Riley asked. "The longer we wait the longer he has to plan new ways to possibly stab us in the back." She stabbed at her steak for emphasis. "Besides that, his collar's causing interference or something with something Elijah needs and—"

"You're not seriously considering this," Cass said flatly. She stepped forward, lowering her voice. "I get what Veronica wants, but this asshole needs to die. Screw whatever he needs."

It took her a second to realise Cass was talking about Elijah, and not Dean. She was too tired to argue on either account, and set her fork down carefully. "I think I'm done."

Cass frowned down at her plate. "You haven't touched half of it. Finish or you ain't leaving this room."

"Look _Mom," _Riley scowled at her. "I need to find Dean."

Cass made a sound of disgusted frustration. "Ugh. Look—"

She lifted a hand. "I'm not arguing on this."

"You argue about everything," Cass retorted. "What's one more thing?"

"Boone," Riley turned to him, exasperated. "You'll help me, right?" Cass turned to glare at him, daring him to say yes, but he didn't meet her gaze. Instead, he cast his eyes upwards, and sighed.

"Yeah."

Ha! Riley smiled triumphantly as Cass shook her head slowly. Scowling, she grabbed Riley's plate and stalked out of the room, muttering about _fucking crazies_ as she left.

* * *

Riley opened the door to the theatre and promptly sagged against it. Behind her, Boone shifted his weight patiently while she struggled to summon the energy to actually step inside. The walk from the casino to the lobby, then up the flight of stairs to get to the Theatre had taken the wind right out of her sails. Her legs were like lead, heavy and useless and she was fighting just to stay upright.

"We can wait," he said when she didn't move. She closed her eyes.

"Need to get you home," she mumbled. Wait, shit, did she say that?

Boone's voice was cautious. "…Me?"

She shook her head weakly. "All. You all. Everyone."

"Home?"

"Mojave."

"Desert's not going anywhere," he reminded her, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Not getting there any faster by laying around," she said, and forced herself to take a step into the room. The door swung shut behind them, the resulting bang echoing loudly.

"Gonna get yourself killed," he went on. "You're still weak. Gonna make you slow and sloppy."

She staggered forward towards the ticket booth, determined to see this through. A poster of Dean in his prime adorned the wall, lights framing it in a golden halo. Boxes of bobby pins sat on the desk and she reached out with tired hands. "If you didn't want to come," she said, tucking the boxes into her pocket, "why'd you say yes?"

"Said I'd watch your back."

"Even if my ideas are stupid?"

"Especially if your ideas are stupid."

Ha. Ha.

"You're sure he's here?" Boone turned in a small circle, taking in the room with a critical eye. She wasn't sure, actually. It was simply her best guess. But she lifted her Pip-Boy to check the map and sure enough, a little blip pulsed on the map close by.

"He's here."

"And is there a reason you didn't stop to check in on Veronica?"

Riley sighed, dropping her arm. "Because Cass is right."

"On what."

She shook her head and moved slowly out of the lobby. Another set of double doors stood in front of her, proudly declaring in lights that beyond was the Tampico.

"About Elijah," she said. "Guy's a whack-job. I know Ronnie wants to talk to him, but I just think there's no point, y'know? He's beyond help." She looked over her shoulder when Boone didn't say anything and found him eyeing her curiously. "You don't agree?"

"I do agree. But when we got here you were all for letting her have what she wants."

She turned back. "You weren't there at the clinic. We found bodies," she tugged on the handle of one of the doors, sighed when it wouldn't budge. "Bodies and collars and…" she stopped to face him. "We don't let the Legion get a free pass with this shit. Why should he?"

He stared at her, and she saw something in his eyes that she was too tired to place. Approval? He nodded. "Yeah, I get it."

She smiled, and turned down a hall that was dimly lit around the corner. "Let's hope Ronnie does. Because I'm not looking forward to that conversation."

Her eyes went wide as Boone pulled her back violently. Her ears barely caught the first beep from her collar and she scolded herself inwardly. She'd forgotten to look for the radios.

"Stay here," Boone said, stepping around her. She didn't argue. Weak as she was, she'd probably just get in the way. Boone dashed around the corner and out of sight. A few seconds later, a single shot went off.

"Clear," Boone called, and Riley moved to join him.

The theatre was dark. A stage stood in the middle of the room, lonely and melancholy, beckoning for singers of an era long dead. Dean's name was in lights, and she smiled a little, wondering what it'd be like to see him perform live. She hummed a few bars of one of his songs—a favourite of her mother's—and earned a fresh new frown from Boone as they neared the centre of the room.

"Just get this over with," he said, and she nodded, clearing her throat.

"Dean?" she called out. The empty theatre echoed his name back at her.

"Up here," said a bored voice, and Riley looked around, finally spotting him up on a walkway, overlooking the entire lounge. She lifted a hand.

"Hey. Came to get you."

"Took you long enough," he said on a sigh, resting his elbows on the railing. He crossed one foot behind the other, and Riley frowned. He sure wasn't in any hurry. For someone who'd been planning this heist for two centuries, she would have thought he'd be more eager to get a move on.

"There were complications," she told him.

"There always are. And now we have a new one," he tilted his head. "Security isn't happy we're here."

She dropped her hand. "Um."

"They're going to appear any minute. If I were you, I'd try not to die."

"Thanks," she said, her voice rising. "Great advice. Where are the emitters? We can deal with security, but we need to get you out of here. I have a plan to deal with Elijah and I want everyone together for it."

"Oh?" The ghoul straightened. "And does that coincide with _my _plan to raid the vault? Did you even remember our little agreement? Obviously not, since _he's _with you."

She sighed. She didn't really want to deal with Dean's bruised ego right now. "I'll explain everything."

"You'd better," Dean snapped. "I've had enough of being the odd man out. This is _my _show, and I'll be damned if I'm relegated to holding the door open for others to take the spotlight."

She found herself swaying while he spoke. Her limbs, still weak from the loss of blood, were having a hard time keeping her upright and in one place. She had the vaguest thought that maybe Cass was right and she should have waited until she got her strength back. She was lethargic, tired, and soon she'd be forced to dodge holograms. This was, all in all, not one of her brightest ideas.

Dean considered her, brow quirking when her swaying took a considerate lean too far to the left and Boone moved to keep her upright.

"What happened to you?" Dean asked. She smiled tiredly.

"Like I said, complications. You coming down?"

"I can't. Look, I can't explain it all. Just go through the door on the left," he said finally. "By the stage. Ha, get it? Exit stage-left? Oh, never mind. I need you to find a key to the damn door here. I think it's in Vera's dressing room."

She frowned. "Can't you just walk off the stage?"

He waved an idle hand. "The last three times I tried, I was met with an unfriendly hologram. If I go out on that stage again, I want it to be with a band behind me and an adoring crowd before me."

She looked around wildly, but Dean was already turning to go. "Wait! My left or your left?"

"Ah," he paused and turned back around. "Oh. My left, your right." His lips turned up into a smile. "That would have been messy." Then he was gone.

She took one step forward. One step, that was all she was allowed before Boone clamped a hand on her arm, gripping her tight at the elbow, and hauled her to the back of the lounge. He dragged her behind the counter to the bar just as blue holograms were starting to flicker on, and he yanked her down to the floor before she could be seen.

"What are you doing," she groaned, unable to fight him. "This isn't stage-left."

"Stay here," Boone said. "I'll deal with this."

Her head fell back against the wall. Christ she was tired. "You're not doing this alone." As if she was in any shape to stop him.

"Stay. Here." He fixed his gaze on her. She blinked once wearily. "Riley. I mean it."

"Fine," she closed her eyes, hating how useless she felt. "Just get him out."

He paused, opening his mouth as if to say something. Must have thought better on it, because he shook his head, laid a hand on her shoulder briefly, and moved out of hiding. Her eyes followed him, and she couldn't resist poking her head around the corner to watch as he practically sailed through the room unnoticed.

"Dean?" She called out again. "Boone's coming to get you."

"My dear," Dean's voice called back. "You have a way of ruining a man's day, you know?"

She found herself smiling in the darkness.

* * *

She lifted her head wearily sometime later to see two men standing over her, and neither of them were smiling.

"What's th'matter?" she mumbled. "Why so glum, chums?"

Dean lifted a single brow. "Are you drunk?"

"No," she smiled weakly as Boone crouched next to her, slipping an arm around her waist and hauling her up to her feet. "I am just really, really, _really_ tired."

"You need food," Boone said. "Sugar." He nudged her legs forward.

"Okay. Sweetie."

He sighed. "Sugary _food. _We're going back," he told her, and together they walked out from her hiding place while Dean watched her cautiously.

"Wait," Riley frowned suddenly, and Boone stopped. She turned her head to the ghoul. "God's dead."

He said nothing for a moment. "Is he the reason you're half delirious from blood loss?"

She blinked, distracted. "How'd you know?"

"I haven't survived nearly two-hundred years in this place without a close call or two myself, you know." He plucked delicately at this cuffs. "I recognise the signs. But I suppose the better question is, why are we still _alive?"_

She was taking a massive risk with this. She hoped it paid off.

"Because there's something in the walls that's blocking the signals," she told him. "Don't suppose you know what it is."

Dean frowned. "The walls, you say?"

She nodded, her head felt heavy.

"So you're saying," he drew his sidearm and she felt her heart drop. He held it up, tilting his head as he looked at the barrel. She could feel Boone tense beside her, and realised that while he was supporting her, he wasn't free to draw his own weapon. "You're saying that if I shot you _now_," he levelled the gun on her, drawing out the word. "And made it out in time, my bow-tie _wouldn't_ blow my head off?"

She swallowed. "That's what I'm saying, yes."

"Interesting."

Nobody moved. She could feel Boone's muscles tensing sporadically, knew he probably wanted to drop her and just shoot Dean then and there. Could he do it before Dean shot either of them first, though? That was the important question, and she felt a surge of defeat at the realisation that this was her fault. She let her head fall forward, wondering if she could summon up the strength to shove Boone aside and tackle Dean before the gun went off. At the very least, she could give Boone time to escape.

"Guess this means I don't get that autograph after all, huh?" she murmured.

There was a beat of silence, and then Dean surprised them all by _laughing. _Riley lifted her head, brow furrowed. Was this a manic _I'm-going-to-kill-you-now _laugh? Or an amused _you-actually-thought-you-could-defeat-me _laugh? Was it funny _ha-ha_ or funny _mwah-ha?_

Dean tucked his sidearm back into his coat. "My dear, I don't know _why_, exactly. But I find myself quite fond of you."

She stared at him. What.

"So let's let bygones be bygones, eh?"

"That's a great idea," she said in a breathy rush. "Your greatest yet."

"No," he said gravely. "I think my greatest idea will be to finally leave this place once this is all over."

She smiled at him. "Can't argue with that."


	37. I'll be as you want me

**Author's Note:** _Sorry for the delay on this one. D: There were... complications. Compounded with a bout of severe laziness. Ha. Then today, I injured my ankle. It's only a light strain but I've been ordered to sit my ass down and rest it, so this chapter finally got attention. I could have broken this into two chapters, honestly, but I decided not to. So behold, my longest chapter yet. Thank you all for reading! Reviews are like sunshine and rainbows. :)_

* * *

It was some time later before Riley had the energy to attempt to stand on her own again. Boone had deposited her, rather unceremoniously, in the care of Cass, before stalking off to do god knew what. She wanted to see Veronica, talk to Christine. She wanted to ask Dean about that autograph but Cass was having none of it. She stuck her with a stimpak and, in the middle of her bitching, Riley passed out in the chair.

When she awoke she was alone. She felt better. Not top of the world, but she stood on her own and walked on her own and hey, that was progress. Never mind the crick in her neck from sleeping in a chair. She'd nearly died, after all, and told herself that a little neck pain was a small price to pay as she looked around the room. Her bag sat on the table, those little metal chips spilling out over the surface. She picked one up, turning it over in her hand. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she should be eating something to help build up her sugar levels. Maybe she wouldn't feel so fatigued if she did. She looked back down at the chip in her hand before shovelling the rest of them into her bag and walking out the door.

She found the vending machine easily, and was surprised as it picked up codes from her Pip-Boy. The available inventory list practically doubled and her eyes widened as Stimpaks, Med-X, explosives and ammo were suddenly obtainable. And they didn't cost caps. This was, in her eyes, pretty much _free._

"God, if I'd looked at this sooner this wouldn't have been such a hellhole to go through," she mumbled as she scrolled through her food options. She picked a few items and made her way back.

It was in the middle of her wolfing down a bowl of sugar bombs that her ears picked up on the voices coming from down the hall. Tension laced every word, an uncomfortable guest that only grew more restless as the voices rose. She paused, spoon in mid-air, and strained to listen.

"I'm not arguing this with you."

"Sounds a lot like arguing to me. Why can't you just consider what I have to say? It's not a huge request."

"It's a _risk, _Veronica. And more than he deserves."

Had to be Christine. The voice was familiar, which was odd considering Christine's previous comatose-followed-by-mute condition, and Riley frowned as she stood, her food forgotten, and made her way down the hall. The voices grew louder as she neared the room.

"He won't hurt us!"

"He's made it clear he wants us dead." This, shockingly, from Boone. "From what he said earlier to Riley, didn't seem happy she let me live."

"Yeah, why was he talking to her anyway? Why wasn't he contacting Veronica?" Cass wondered. Riley slowed, her hand on the wall.

"You got me," Boone sighed. "She said he can't hear us. Just barked commands over the speaker."

"Huh. So he's linked to her Pip-Boy," Christine put in, her tone curious. "He can track her, but not our collars. Interesting. Maybe we can use that, maybe not. You said the collars aren't linked anymore?"

"Sort of."

"Can we get back to the problem at hand?" Veronica snapped.

"He _is _the problem at hand," Christine sighed. "Why can't you see that?"

"I just want to talk to him."

"You keep saying that, but I don't think you truly understand what it is you're asking. Do you even know how far he's fallen? He's _not _the same guy, anymore, Ronnie. Didn't you listen to _anything_ I told you? _It's not safe!_"

Why did Christine sound so familiar? It was nagging at her, and as she stood there trying to figure it out, she missed the footsteps coming up behind her.

"Eavesdropping, eh?" Dean whispered in her ear. She jumped, turned, and glared at him.

"Don't do that," she snapped, scowling at his smug smile. He gestured at the door, and the argument beyond it.

"Not going in?"

"I am. Why aren't you in there?"

He made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. "Let's just say it's a tough crowd."

She blinked at him. "I'm not following."

"Well," he said, drawing out the word hesitantly. "Sounds like a bad idea for me to walk in when they're deciding another man's fate, you know?" She didn't. "They might change their minds and decide on mine, instead."

Oh.

"If they were invested in killing you I think they would have done it already."

"A fair point," he allowed. "I'd just rather not push my luck."

The argument was picking up again in the room ahead, and Riley felt the pull to join in. She quirked a brow at Dean. "Staying here?"

"For now."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself." She gave him a parting lift of her brows and turned on her heel. She stalked down the hall, opening the door without so much as a how-do-you-do. All eyes turned to her, and she had time to take in the room as she stepped in. Veronica and Christine were standing in the middle of the room, facing off with one another. A pair of dented desks lined the walls, cabinets and shelves. Scattered books and torn pages littered the floor. Boone had taken up residence on one of the desks, hunched over with his hands folded tightly between his legs. Cass was leaning against a wall, looking bored.

"What are you doing up?" Cass sighed, exasperated. "You should be resting."

"I should have been a doctor, according to my ma," Riley retorted. "Can't always get what we want." She nodded towards Christine. "I see you're talking."

Veronica snorted. Riley frowned.

"Unless… I'm hearing wrong?"

Christine rolled her eyes. "No. It's… complicated. Glad to see you're up. Heard you were in a bad way."

"Was," Riley allowed, shrugging. "Donated a litre or so of my blood to the carpet."

Christine's lips twitched. "Generous of you."

"I try," she pulled up a chair, found it questionably stable, and sat down carefully. "So who wants to catch me up?"

Veronica turned angry eyes on Christine, neither girl speaking. Riley waited patiently until finally Cass exhaled sharply.

"Fuck's sake. Fine." She lifted a hand and began ticking each point off with her fingers. "Christine woke up in Vera's room where a two hundred year old auto-doc finished the procedure you guys interrupted in the clinic. Christine is now the proud owner of a new voice box, courtesy of one deceased Vera Keyes."

Riley's eyes widened. That was interesting. She hadn't expected _that. _But it explained why she sounded so familiar. The broadcast that spread across the Mojave, luring people into the legend of the Sierra Madre. That was Vera's voice.

Wait.

"Veronica's pissed that Christine isn't more upset about this. Christine is a tough-ass bitch that doesn't take shit laying down—," Cass nodded appreciatively at the smaller woman, earning a small smile, "—and wants to get on with the kill-Elijah plan. Veronica is against this and has proposed her own talk-to-Elijah plan. Boone's been frowning a lot, and I drank a bottle of whiskey." She smiled wryly. "Oh, and you saved the ghoul and none of us know why."

_Wait._

Riley waited a beat. She took a slow breath. "Okay."

"So," Cass spread her arms wide. "Now you're caught up. Where do we start?"

She pursed her lips. "We start… with why Dean wanted Christine to have Vera's voice."

A grumbling sound of disgust came from the hall, followed by Dean and Dean's tailored suit appearing in the doorway. "That," he declared. "Was supposed to be a _surprise. _You ruined my grand entrance._"_

She ignored that. "You told me you were the only one who knew how to enter the vault," she said, standing. Dean lifted his hands.

"Now listen—"

"You _wanted_ Christine to make it inside, even though she didn't have a collar," Riley went on, walking slowly towards him. "You were upset we interrupted the operation. And now," she paused, turned slightly so Dean had a full view of Christine from where he stood. "She has Vera's voice."

"Yeah," Dean folded his arms. "What's your point?"

Riley pursed her lips, then asked, "Is the key to the vault voice activated?"

Heads lifted, eyes widened as everyone stared at Riley.

"Hmmm." Dean said, eyeing her. "Put that together rather quickly."

Veronica stormed across the room, eyes livid as she tried to get at Dean. Riley stepped in front of her. She wasn't fooling anyone, she knew Veronica could easily toss her aside like a rag doll in her current condition, but to her credit, the Scribe stopped. Fists curled at her side, teeth clenched, she locked eyes with Riley, and said tightly, "Move."

"Ronnie—"

"Move, _please_."

"This isn't going to solve anything."

"On the contrary. My fist in his face is going to solve the problem of my anger."

"Christine doesn't seem all that upset about it," Riley pointed out. Christine sighed.

"I'm not because it doesn't matter."

Veronica whirled on her. "It _matters. _You lost your voice. You lost part of _you."_

The look on Christine's face said it was clearly the wrong thing to say.

"Don't tell me what I lost," she snapped. "I know what I lost, what I'm _never_ getting back." Her back was rigid, her arms tight at her side, and Veronica fell quiet. Anger, hurt, sadness. Christine's eyes shone with unbridled rage and years of pent up bitterness. "Don't tell me what I lost," she repeated. "Because everything that matters that I've lost, I lost because of _Elijah_. Not because of _him_."

The room swelled with silence for a moment, one heavy moment before Veronica took an awkward step towards her.

"Don't," Christine stepped back. "Just don't. It's over. It's done. I don't need you fighting my battles for me, Ron. This?" she gestured at her throat. "This isn't going to break me. This is nothing compared to everything else. I can handle this. So let's just—" she sighed and looked away. "Let's just end this."

Veronica stood there, her face was hidden from where Riley was standing, shoulders hunched. She saw them shake, just a little, and her heart broke for her friend who had done nothing to deserve this shitty situation. Her voice was small when she spoke next, small and unsure.

"What do you want me to do?"

Riley took a breath, and explained her plan.

* * *

The meeting had ended, arguments were won, details tuned out. Now all that remained was carrying it out. Riley remained standing as one by one, they filtered out the door, the plan and the many ways it could fucking go wrong going back and forth in her head. As the plan settled in her mind, a handful of details rose to the top again, and she turned, clearing her throat. This would be the last chance to indulge in curiosities for a while. "Dean."

The ghoul stopped in the doorway, stepping aside as the others left. He adjusted his bow tie and pushed his back against the doorframe, folding his arms as he tilted his head, head canting forward just enough to slide his sunglasses away from his eyes. "I hope this is important."

She wasn't sure why she stopped him, what this mattered. It was so small a detail that she hesitated before speaking. "You wanna tell me the real deal?" she asked. "Why you avoided coming in here," she explained at his blank expression. "You're always going on about wanting the spotlight, and yet you were hiding in the hallway."

His head tilted as he considered her. "Self-preservation comes to mind," he said, his tone dry. "I don't know if it's occurred to you, but aside from _you, _I'm not exactly well-liked by the rest of your little group."

"The collars are still on," she reminded him. "Nobody can hurt you. So you avoided coming in here for a reason, and I hardly think 'they don't like me' is enough to stop you from stealing the show."

He scoffed, head shaking as he leaned his head back again. He didn't answer for a bit, staring off at nothingness while she stood, waiting and unsure. Finally, he spoke. "You put it together but you still don't get it. That's like you. Like... her."

She frowned. "Her?"

"Always missing the bigger picture," he said. At her confused look, he smiled brittlely. "Look, it's nothing, alright? Nothing that matters, anyhow," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Now, let's not waste any more time, eh? The show must go on." He turned and left without another word, and she waited a minute before following him out the door.

* * *

Later, once everything was prepared, they travelled up to the suites, Christine leading the way.

"I disarmed most of security up here," she said. "But some of it, well." She lifted a finger to her ear and they paused, listening.

"Sinclair? Sinclair. I'm trapped. Please, oh god, the security systems won't let me out, they're keeping me here."

"Vera," Dean breathed. He looked spooked, which in itself was worrisome. Riley frowned at Christine.

"What is this?" she whispered. Christine merely motioned for her to wait.

"I'm going to die here, amongst the ghosts," Vera's voice trembled. It sounded more distant now. "I… I'm still being recorded by the holographic system."

Ah, that explained it. Christine opened a door and beyond they could see the blue holographic ghost of Vera, glowing eerily as she patrolled the room beyond. Her voice continued.

"I came so far to be here. Now… now I just want to leave. Please," she cried. "Let me leave."

"Turn it off," Dean said hoarsely, rubbing at his brow. "Turn the damn thing off."

"I can't find the emitters," Christine said calmly. "There's no time to look for them, anyway. Come on, this way." She motioned for them to follow. It was odd, hearing her voice crying in the darkness for Sinclair, and at the same time hearing her addressing them now, strong and convicted. "We can bypass most of them. I just wanted to warn you that this floor is still dangerous."

They followed quietly, occasionally they'd hear Vera's voice in the distance, but Christine took them through safe routes, avoiding the ghostly apparition wherever possible. Still, the look on Dean's face as they moved farther through the suites was unsettling. Riley wondered, thinking back on his words, what his relationship with Vera was like. Dean said they were partners, that she'd betrayed him. He was almost dismissive when he spoke of her, disdainful of her just as much as Sinclair. When the only good thing about a person that you ever mention are her legs, that doesn't speak much for your emotional attachment to them, but Dean's horror at hearing the ghostly recordings spoke volumes more than his words ever would.

Dean loved her. Maybe not in the traditional sense. Maybe his sense of love was more twisted than others. Maybe it was only time, two hundred years worth of bitterness and regret. But in his own way, Riley got the feeling that he cared for her.

And Vera's voice played on.

"_The doors, they__… they sealed. I… I can hear the other guests, screaming to be let out, to let go."_

"_We all pay for what we've done. I'm so sorry, Sinclair."_

"_Sinclair? Sinclair, where did you go? Why did you leave me here? Why?"_

"Jesus Christ," Cass breathed at one point. "I ain't one for tears but I could have gone my entire life without having to hear this shit."

Riley couldn't help but agree. It was chilling, hearing the last words of a trapped woman on repeat, knowing that her pleas had gone unheard for two centuries, her words dying in the middle of a dead city. But she couldn't help but feel a sort of kinship with Vera. After all, she knew what it was like to be held captive against your will, to watch as others died, to cry for someone to set you free.

And to feel regret at the part you played that got you there.

"Here," Christine said finally, opening a set of double doors into a large, luxurious suite. Riley was shocked to see windows—actual windows. None of the other rooms had them. The casino didn't, nor did the lobby or the theatre. But this room did, caked with the dust of the cloud, and yet still light shone through. The sun was rising.

"This is where I woke up," Christine explained as they filed into the room. Dean hesitated in the doorway, and then made a beeline for the bar.

"No time for drinking, Dean," Riley frowned.

"There's always time for drinking," Cass said, joining him. "Pour me one, will ya?"

They didn't have time for this, but nobody seemed to be in any rush now that they'd made it here. Veronica stood at a bookcase, pulling dusty volumes off the shelves and turning brittle pages. Boone picked up a pack of cigarettes off the table, turning it over in his hands before pulling one out and lighting it. He moved over to the windows and leaned against the glass.

She supposed Elijah could wait ten more minutes.

"Can I talk to you?"

She turned, blinking at Christine. "Sure."

"In here," she jerked her head and Riley followed her into a bedroom. The words 'Let Go' were scrawled across the wall over the bed in rusted, faded red. A skeleton sat in a chair in the far corner, meds scattered on the carpet around it. Going by the dress it was wearing, that had to be Vera. She hoped Dean stayed out of this room.

Behind her, Christine closed the door.

"Um," Riley frowned as she turned around. "This seems like the perfect creepy set-up for finishing what you started at the police station."

"Cute," Christine deadpanned. "Ignoring the fact that I don't actually have a reason for killing you, I don't see the need to upset Veronica further. Congratulations," she spread her arms wide. "You get to live."

"Hurray." Riley raised a single brow. "So what's up?"

She looked down, as if trying to figure out where to start. Finally, she said, "Veronica mentioned that you were a Courier."

"Yeah," Riley said. "I am. What about it."

"Couriers carry messages," she said, hesitating. "Could you carry one for me?"

"Sure," Riley blinked. "Whatever you need. Wherever it needs to go."

"It's for… another courier. If you meet him in your travels."

"Uh," Riley sat down on the edge of Vera's bed. "There's a lot of couriers out there. Care to narrow that down some?"

"I met him a few months back, while I was tracking Elijah. Came across a place called the Big Empty. Found Elijah, fought Elijah." She exhaled sharply. "Lost Elijah. This courier, he— he helped me out, helped me escape from the place that did this to me." Christine's face hardened as she gestured at her scars, but her words were measured, calm. She met Riley's gaze. "His name was Ulysses. Do you know him?"

"No," Riley shook her head. "Name sounds Legion, though."

"Might be," she shrugged. "Not sure. Never said who he owed allegiance to. He took care of me for a few days while I healed. Didn't like talking about himself. He was funny that way. But he did mention he was searching for someone. A courier, like you. Said he had a message for them."

"And you have a message for him?" Riley tilted her head, brow furrowed. "I can't guarantee I can find this guy. I can ask around. Couriers tend to frequent the same places, Mojave Express, Mojave Outpost, the 188. You never know, someone might have heard of him. With a name like that, I'm sure he'd stick out."

Christine nodded, smiling lightly. "That's more than I can ask of you. I'm not asking you to go out of your way or anything just— if you come across him. Or mention of him. I don't know. I owe him my life. Guess maybe I just want— not sure, really. Something. A record of what happened to me. Someone ought to know the full story, and he was there for part of it."

This was starting to sound pretty bleak, but she cleared her throat and nodded like she understood what was going on. "So what's the message?"

"Tell him…" she frowned and looked down at her hands. "Tell him what happened here. To Elijah. Tell him he was right."

"About what?"

"He told me, when he found out where I was headed, that someone smarter, tougher, would kill Elijah. I don't know who'll pull the trigger," she sighed. "When it all comes down to it, I just want the bastard dead. But tell him he was right. About everything."

Riley nodded slowly. "Okay. I can do that. Anything else you can remember?"

"Bits and pieces. None of it relevant."

"Okay then. Well if you don't see him first—"

"That won't happen."

Riley opened her mouth, paused, closed it again. Finally, she said, "You're starting to sound like Boone."

"The soldier," Christine nodded. "Signs of PTSD, depression. Has that look in his eye…" she shook her head. "This isn't like that. I—"

A knock at the door stopped her, and they turned just as Cass poked her head inside. "Sorry," she said, seeing them. "Interrupting something?"

"We're done," Christine said. Cass nodded.

"Everyone's waiting."

Christine moved to leave, pausing at the doorway. She arched a brow at Riley. "Coming?"

"Yeah," she said. "Just give me five minutes. Still feeling a bit winded."

Christine nodded and shut the door.

* * *

She couldn't see the ceiling as they stepped into the room housing the entrance to the vault. The walls climbed up, towering around them like silent sentinels with no end in sight. How far deep below the surface were they?

"Well fuck me sideways and call me Candy," Cass said quietly. The metal walkways gave them their only path, stairs that led down to their objective and their freedom. Electricity hummed in the air, sparking and clashing randomly as it arced through metal. And the Cloud whispered beneath them from the depths below, thick, heavy and deadly, bringing back that rusty smell.

"Couldn't have put it better myself," Riley muttered, craning her neck as she strained to find an end to the walls. The collar shifted, biting into her skin and she pushed at it irritably.

"I feel a little disappointed," Dean remarked. "I was expecting something a little more… grand."

"All vaults are like this," Cass sighed. "Been through one or two myself. They're not fun. Or pretty."

"The one on the Strip is pretty," Riley pointed out. "Been there on leave once."

Veronica stayed quiet.

The vault entrance itself was housed in a dome-shaped, metal compartment, and they clustered around the door, shifted impatiently while Veronica worked the terminal to unlock it. Metal hinges protested loudly as the door swung open, and Veronica rushed inside.

"I'll stay here," Boone said, catching Riley's eye. "Keep a look out."

Christine peered inside, grimacing. "Yeah," she said. "Me too."

Boone moved off to one of the farther catwalks and Christine split off, covering another direction. Riley shrugged and joined the others already inside.

She found Cass holding two bars of gold, one in each hand. She glanced up at Riley with a shit-eating grin and held them up victoriously. Behind her, on a table, were _piles _of the stuff, glittering brightly amidst a mass of pre-war money.

"Check it out!" Cass crowed. "Shit, this almost makes this whole thing worth it."

Dean strolled over, picking up a bar for himself quietly. Riley watched him, expecting… well. Expecting something more than the quiet consideration he was currently giving. Surely, a bit more celebration was in order? This had, after all, been two hundred years in the making.

"I think—" Veronica spoke up from a terminal in far centre of the room. Riley moved over. "Hmmm. Let's see." Her fingers tapped a few keys.

The door swung shut behind them, and Riley jumped. She ran to the door, yanking on the handle. Cass joined her, both women tugging frantically until finally they heard a banging coming from the other side. They paused.

"Riley?!" Boone's voice, muffled, reached their ears. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"We're okay!" she shouted back. She wasn't sure if he heard her or not. He didn't reply, and she cursed, kicking the door. "Ron, what did you do?"

"I— I accessed a file, that's it." Veronica's voice rose frantically.

"What sort of file?" Riley moved back over to her.

"It was for Vera. It—"

"Ah, finally," Elijah's face appeared on the large screen before them and they froze, staring at it. "Finally."

"Elijah?" Veronica swallowed. "We're trapped."

"I'm aware," he said. "Too many of you down there. It's good some of you are separated."

Riley's breath caught in her throat. Boone and Christine were still outside.

"Can you let me out?" Veronica asked.

"I'm afraid not. I'm afraid, dear Veronica, that I feel that I can't trust you anymore."

"What are you talking about? Of course you can!"

"You've been turned against me," Elijah whispered. "Corrupted."

"I'm not—" Veronica stood from the chair, the frustration growing in her voice. "I just want answers. I'm not corrupted. I'm still—"

"Loyal to the Brotherhood? To me?" Elijah scoffed. "I think not. Not when you've been travelling with your friend here."

Now it was Riley's turn to frown. "Uh," she said. "What do I have to do with anything?" Veronica refused to look at her, instead she kept staring up at the screen.

"Please. You think I wasn't listening while you were running around outside? I've learned a great many things about you and your… partner." She could hear the sneer in his voice, the disdain. "NCR fools. You've befriended the enemy, Veronica. The ones responsible for the massacre at Helios."

"No, I—"

"You've turned against your family, the Codex."

Veronica slammed her fist against the desk. "_No. _I—"

"_Betrayal."_

"Come down here," Veronica said, her voice thick with emotion. "Come down and you'll see how loyal I am. I swear to you."

"I don't think so," Elijah said. "Too dangerous. Do you think I'm stupid? I'm outnumbered."

"We still have the collars on," Riley pointed out. "You come down here, we can't do anything to you, since you have the switch, right? Give Veronica a chance to at least have her answers, old man."

Silence. Then, "Hmmm. A fair point. One press of a button and my problems cease to matter. Alright, fine. I'll come down, let you make your case, Veronica. In return I'll answer what I can. I suppose I owe you at least that much. And then… then we'll see."

Behind them, the door swung open, and Riley rushed to get out, Veronica right on her heels. Boone and Christine came out from cover warily, weapons raised.

"What's going on?" Boone asked.

"He's coming down," Riley breathed.

"What are we doing?" Veronica said in a rush.

"Stick to the plan," Riley hissed. Cass and Dean joined them as the elevator whirred and clanked loudly. They stood there tensely until finally the elevator came to a stop, and they waited as Elijah made his way down the hall towards them.

Beside her, Christine jerked forward, but Boone clamped a hand on her shoulder even as Riley's arm shot out to block her. She looked over her shoulder, shaking her head minutely as Elijah came to a stop a fair distance away from them.

He was old, Riley realised. The picture that popped up on the holograms when they talked to him wasn't accurate. Shorter beard, less wrinkles. The man before them was grizzled, gaunt. Angry. A mad look shone in his eyes as he sighted the open door to the vault and Riley could only think that his obsession was killing him.

"Well," he said. "Here I am. Here you are. A bit of a one-sided showdown, hmmm. But for whom?" he chuckled as he raised his left arm, showing off the Pip-Boy that mirrored Riley's. "One wrong move," he warned. "Boom."

"A bit of a diva, isn't he?" Dean sneered.

"Takes a diva to know a diva," Cass muttered back.

"Hardly," Dean said dryly. "Don't sully my good name with the likes of that. I, my dear, am the main attraction."

"I didn't come down here to listen to your inane babbling," Elijah snapped, staring at Veronica. "Prove your loyalty."

"I want to make a deal," she said. "I stay, here, with you. I help you with whatever you're planning."

Elijah considered her. "And? I assume you have a stipulation."

"They go free," Veronica nodded. Riley whipped her head around.

"Ron—"

"Don't," Veronica shook her head. "I've decided."

Elijah looked down, folding one hand behind his back as he mused over her words. He began muttering to himself, his words carrying over to them, unaware they could hear his rambling. "There's merit in the idea, of course. Yes. Not as young as I used to be. Have to account for the frailty of the human body. Could be beneficial to have someone around to take over my work. Hmm."

He looked up. "I can't set them free. Too much risk."

"Then Christine," Veronica blurted. "Just her." Riley took a shaky breath, but didn't move.

"You're letting your emotions control you, Veronica," he scolded. "But I suppose… I can allow this one request. Come," he moved to the side, so that he stood blocking the entrance to the vault. "Stand by my side."

Veronica hurried over to him, not meeting anyone's gaze. Riley watched, unblinking, a feeling of emptiness crawling up on her despite her best intentions to stay strong.

"Turn," Elijah ordered, and when she did, he lifted his hands and worked the tricky mechanism to remove her collar, letting it fall to the metal walkway with a loud clang. He lifted his boot, kicking it over the edge. Riley swallowed as Veronica rubbed at her neck and faced them.

"Now," he said, raising his Pip-Boy. "We end this foolishness."

Riley grit her teeth. "Veronica."

"What are you doing?" Veronica whirled on him. "You said—"

"I said I'd set her free," Elijah's hand hovered over his wrist. "And what greater freedom is there than death?"

Veronica looked up at him pleadingly. "Don't—"

He flicked his gaze up, meeting Riley's angry glare. "Thank you for your services," he said. "But they are no longer required."

He pressed a button.

Nothing happened.

Riley smiled. "Boom."

Elijah's eyes widened as he stared down at his Pip-Boy.

"I don't—"

"Performance issues?" Dean stepped forward. "There's pills for that, you know. But you know, while you were hiding in your hole," he spread his hands wide. "We were taking advantage of Sinclair's saturnite walls. I suppose the square had to be good for something," he added, muttering.

Elijah's face turned livid, contorting angrily as he realised he'd been outsmarted. He raised his weapon, shouting incoherently, madly, as he started firing on them. Boone yanked Riley to the ground as energy lasers scorched the air around them. There was a scuffle of boots on metal, and she looked up just in time to see Veronica stride up behind Elijah and disarm him in three quick moves. He twisted, stumbling to find his balance even as Veronica threw his rifle over the edge.

"No—" he staggered to the railing, eyes wide. And then Christine was there, a pistol in her hand and vengeance in her eyes. He barely had time to realise his own end before she pulled the trigger.

Elijah fell. And they were free.

* * *

She could breathe again. It was the simplest thing. Inhale, exhale, repeat as necessary. But now with the collar off, each breath didn't have that underlying threat of being her last. It was fucking great.

They were standing at the entrance to a train tunnel. According to Christine it would lead them back to the bunker, where this entire thing started. The tracks were in disrepair, rusted, covered in sand, and a train sat nearby, just three cars that no longer ran. There was no Cloud, no Ghost People. The Sierra Madre sat close by, shrouded in gloom even in the afternoon light.

They were free, all except one of them.

Riley turned to look at Veronica, standing at the edge of the platform. She was staring at the city, left alone by the rest of them so she could have her moment. Goodbyes were never easy.

"We need to get going," Boone said at her side. She sighed, nodding, and moved forward.

"Veronica?"

"Hmm." The Scribe didn't turn, arms folded and shoulders hunched against the building wind. Riley touched her arm gently.

"We have to go."

Still, Veronica stayed quiet, the silence growing steadily around them even as their friends chatted in the distance.

"She wouldn't come," Veronica said finally. "I asked and—" she shook her head, laughing bitterly. "Should have seen this coming."

"It's what the Brotherhood does, isn't it?" Riley asked quietly. "Guard old-world tech?"

"Yeah," Veronica murmured, looking down. "I guess. It's what we were taught to do. I just thought…" she trailed off, and Riley smiled sympathetically. Christine choosing to stay and act as guardian over the Sierra Madre and her secrets surprised all of them. Veronica argued with her about it for most of the morning while the others got ready to leave. Didn't do any good, Riley thought, remembering her talk with Christine that morning. Her words made sense now, she realised, her decision was made long before any of them even arrived.

"She can always change her mind," Riley said, though she didn't really believe it. "She can leave, any time. She's not trapped here."

Veronica snorted. "You've met her. Once she decides something, she's set on that path. She can be just as obsessive as—" she took a deep breath, and turned pained eyes to her friend. "It doesn't matter. I found and lost both of them in this place, Riley. I didn't get my answers, only more questions. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for getting us into this mess and I just—" she looked down. "Just get me out of here?"

Riley nodded, linking her arm through Veronica's, and pulled her back to their friends.

"So," she said. "Would now be a bad time to mention that there is a silver lining?"

"Silver lining away," Veronica muttered, kicking at a stone. "I need a silver lining."

Riley smiled. "How about a gold one?"


	38. Only so eager to please

**Author's Note:** _Lord Almighty did I have trouble with this one. But here it is! A few things: One, May 28th was the one year anniversary of this going online. Happy birthday fic! *confetti*. Two, I hit 200 reviews. NEATO. Three, THANK YOU guys for being patient and for reading and for being amazing. :) And thank you to my beta who drops whatever he's doing to read whatever I throw at him. ^-^ Y'all are the tops!_

_Also, I've asked a few people this already, but as a general question, if I had a um. Prequel of sorts. Written. Of Riley and Noah's last mission gone awry and their time spent in Cottonwood up until her escape. Who would read that? Just curious._

* * *

The journey back was strangely somber. The train tunnel might have accounted for some of that. The dank and dark of it, one path with no alternate routes. Just an endless track with little lighting and no end in sight. Nobody talked, and in the silence and absence of fear and stress and adrenaline, Riley had time to think clearly.

Two years ago, you could have asked anyone if Riley thought about the consequences of her actions and they would have answered with a big, fat, resounding 'no'. She jumped into situations as they came, made decisions at the drop of a hat, and didn't consult anyone about anything. Sure, she still did all that, but things had changed since then. She had changed. She tried to make decisions more carefully. She looked to others for what they wanted, not just herself. She had learned that actions could carry significance later on. A word could break a friendship, ignoring orders could kill your partner, doing nothing could break your spirit.

But what about a secret? What would the consequences be for saying nothing? On the other hand, what good could come from saying something now?

Would he even care? It wasn't like he could change the past. He'd pulled that trigger and she took the opportunity and ran. Knowing what she knew wouldn't change what happened at Cottonwood. The change that she feared, however, was in how he saw her.

They were back in the bunker when she cornered Dean. The others were reorganising their packs. Gold and armour and guns were being laid out on the floor while Cass divvied everything up so no one was carrying more than the others. She was largely in the way anyway, and found the ghoul back down the stairs in what looked like living quarters, picking through a few books.

"Find something interesting?" she said by way of greeting. Dean snorted, snapping the book shut in his hands and sending up a puff of dust.

"Textbooks," he said, in the same tone one usually reserved for radroaches. He turned slowly, taking in the rest of the room, which was pretty much more textbooks and scattered papers. A terminal hummed in the corner. "These… what was it? Brotherhood? Don't seem too enlightened when it comes to the arts."

"Not really," she shrugged. "Though you'd have to ask Veronica that."

He made a noncommittal noise and then turned to face her. "So," he drawled. "I take it you have something to say?"

"Ask," she corrected. "A few things. Where will you go?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But don't think for a second that I'm joining up with your little posse."

She smiled softly. "I doubted that."

"Where do you suggest I go?"

"Well," she said. "There's New Vegas, of course. Or Reno. Reno's a little more cutthroat. It's more civilised back out West in California. NCR territory. There's cities, people, a government."

"A government," he repeated, in the same tone that he used for the textbooks. "We finally get rid of them all and then you people just bring them back again."

"I'd think you'd make a great politician," she told him. "You're a charismatic liar."

He eyed her. "I'm not sure if you're trying to compliment me here or not."

"Go with compliment," she nodded. "Because I need to ask advice and if you take it as an insult you'll give me bad advice."

"Advice?" He laughed. "From _me? _What could I _possibly _know more about this world than you? You live in it."

"Uh. Well. You know about… lying, for starters."

He said nothing, his smile fading but not quite leaving altogether. He stared at her, intrigued, and she took a deep breath.

"Secrets, actually," she blurted. "You lied to Sinclair, for months, I think, and… he never, suspected anything?"

"No," he said slowly. "He was a bit dense, you know, when it came to people. Plus I had Vera to distract him."

"So you two were keeping secrets from him," she waited until he nodded. "And how did—"

"Vera was an actress," he cut her off as he began walking around the room. "It was her job to lie. That's all actors are, you know. Professional liars." He stopped in front of the vending machine, identical to the ones scattered around the Villa. A few chips lay scattered on the floor. "Did he drag this all the way here? Through that tunnel? The same one we just came out of?"

She blinked. "Um."

"Huh. Well. You have to give the man a little credit for pure determination."

"I guess," she sighed. "You wanna go unkill him and let him know?"

He turned his head slowly to look at her. "Now you're being childish. Why do you want to know about Vera and me, anyway?"

"Not—," she risked a glance at the door, then stepped forward, lowering her voice. "I just… how— how did you keep it a secret for so long?"

His lip curled up at one side. "I think I'm beginning to understand."

She rolled her eyes. She didn't want questions. "No. Just—"

"So what changed I wonder," he mused aloud. "What happened in the Madre? What secret did you unearth and who are you keeping it from?"

Her eyes narrowed. "That's none of your business."

"You're right," he smiled. "It's not. But it's fun to guess, eh?"

She took a steadying breath. "Are you going to answer me or not?"

"I don't need to," he shrugged, moving towards her. "You already know how."

"Yeah, but—"

"Let me spell it out for you. Remember how the collars were linked?" he asked. She blinked.

"Wh—"

"Remember how you didn't tell me they were?" he cocked a brow.

"Well, I—"

He stopped right next to her on his way to the door, his voice low. "The secret to keeping secrets, my dear, is to not talk about them."

He was gone before she could stop him.

* * *

Freeside hadn't changed.

She didn't know what she expected to change in the week they'd been gone, but it felt like maybe something should have, if only to recognise the passing of time so she could feel like their absence was missed somehow. New graffiti maybe, or a show of change in the crops, a new hobo stalking in the alleys.

But there was no new graffiti, the crops still looked like shit, and the hobos had all apparently cleared out from the entrance to the city once word of Riley's return reached them. Or at least that's what she told herself anyway.

It was all very surreal, and she had to keep mentally kicking herself as they walked through the city gates, telling herself that this was real. The sun on her face, the heat on her neck, the sand in her boots. All real. The Sierra Madre was behind them and she had unfinished business to attend to.

"Never thought I'd find myself glad to see this shithole," Cass muttered. The gates were being held open, a steady stream of travellers entering the city in twos and threes. A caravan must have passed through, and a line-up was forming for the Kings' escort service. They moved to the side as the crowd grew, and Riley's eyes lit up as she spotted Tanner through the throng. She lifted a hand, waving until he noticed her. People crowded around her.

"Who's that?" Veronica asked.

"Tanner," Riley explained. "The King who helped me out when I got here."

"Uh," said Veronica. "He doesn't look too happy to see you."

She was right. Tanner's smile was gone, his expression falling flat as he stared at her. That… probably wasn't good. The idea that she might not be welcome hadn't occurred to her, and she dropped her hand hastily, turned on her heel and ploughed through the crowd in an effort to get away. As she pushed past the last dust-covered traveller, she grimaced as a familiar jacket and pair of ruined jeans stepped in her path.

"Going somewhere?" Tanner cocked a brow. She looked around for her friends, noticing with a grim acceptance that in slipping through the crowd she lost them somewhere. Shit.

"Wrangler," Riley forced a smile. "If you'll excuse me—" she tried sidestepping him, making a face as he hauled her up short with a hand on her arm. Men were so _grabby. _

"Hang on there, lady," he yanked her back and dragged her into an alley. It didn't escape her notice that he omitted the 'pretty' part of his nickname for her as she managed to free herself from his grip. She rubbed at her arm, glaring at him.

"You have five seconds to explain why you—"

Her words were cut off, she backed up against the wall as Tanner moved in close, his eyes cold and his mouth pulled back into a scowl. She had a ridiculous thought that he'd been taking classes from Boone. Not many people could pull off a look that mean, and now she knew two of them. Great.

"I'm not the one who has to do the explaining. You got a real funny way of doing favours for people, you know that?" He snapped. Her eyes rounded as the source of his anger began to dawn on her.

"Wait," she held up her hands. "No. Listen. You—"

"I put my reputation on the line for you," he snarled. "Got you an in with the King, got you a gig to get you in his good graces."

"You _bailed on me_ in the middle of that meeting!" she retorted, indignant.

"I had a shift to cover," he slapped his hand on the brick next to her. "Jesus, woman. Don't turn this around on me. I was on break when I found you. I used my free time to help _you _out and what happened? Huh? What?" He took a step back, hands on his hips in a stance that she found distinctly _parental_. She was being scolded and the worst thing was she wanted to cringe at having disappoint him. He'd helped her out without asking for anything in return. He didn't have to do that, and when it came time for her to pay back she didn't follow through.

"I'll tell you what," he went on before she could answer. "The King gave you a job, and he handed you _two hundred _caps to do that job. You have any idea what two hundred caps can do for people around here? And next thing I know I hear you left town with that money and ran off to help the NCR."

She pressed a hand to her head. He had to understand she didn't _mean _to be gone this long. She took a breath. "I didn't steal the money, Tanner. I was only going to be gone two days. I—"

"That two days sure didn't take long to turn into a week, though, did they? Didn't give a shit about what my boys and I were going through, did you? Didn't care that you took money from the King and gave nothing in return." He lifted a finger, pointing at the crowd that didn't look to be shrinking at all. "You see them folk? They ain't hiring Kings, sweetheart."

"You— what?" Her frustration died instantly and her head whipped around. He was right. The crowd stood close together, clamouring with raised bags of caps, some held NCR bills. One man stood in the midst of everything, wearing metal armour and a look of smug satisfaction as a group of King escorts stood on the sidelines, ignored.

"He's taking the highest bidder," Tanner said in her ear. "Two hundred ain't gonna cut it for those folk anymore."

"You charge a hundred," she sputtered. "Why would they—"

"That's what _you_ were supposed to find out."

Shit. The sinking feeling in her stomach grew as she watched the crowd. She had to do this. It didn't matter how much she wanted to rest, or how far she walked, or that she'd almost died about twenty times over in the last five days. None of that changed the fact that they needed her help and she owed the man standing next to her. It wasn't even that she felt guilty over leaving, because at the time, that was simply the right thing to do. It just so happened that so was this.

"How much business is he taking?" She asked quietly. There was a moment of silence as Tanner considered her, gauging her sincerity, her expression, until finally he sighed.

"Nearly all of it," he leaned against the wall across from her, subdued. "Some of our boys haven't landed a gig in weeks since he set up shop."

She nodded. "And following him gets you—?"

"Sore feet and no answers," he smoothed a hand along the side of his styled hair, brushing back strays. "Nothing happens. Just a regular escort, ain't no different than what we give. I'm thinking he knows we're on to him and changes his routine if we follow."

She inclined her head, still watching as the man took bids for his services. "Probably. Not exactly known for your subtlety. He probably smells the hair grease a mile away."

He glared at her. "You're real funny for a woman who still hasn't told me where she was. Nelson ain't but a day's walk from here."

So he heard about that.

"And I'll explain it to you later," she sighed. "You won't listen to me now and I have work to do. Give me a few hours." She lifted a single brow as he looked ready to argue. "Later," she said. "Meet us at the Wrangler at five. I'll tell you everything." She pushed off from the wall and left him, her frown deepening as Boone appeared on her right.

"Problems?" He asked. A glance behind her showed Cass and Veronica following closely.

"When isn't there a problem?" She muttered. She led them down a side street, noting with some grimness the glares that her and Boone were receiving. She'd have to fix that.

"What's the deal?" Cass asked once she stopped. Riley sighed and folded her hands behind her.

"I have a mess to clean up. You're welcome to go on ahead while I deal with it. I imagine you have better things to do anyway."

Cass let her bag slide off her shoulder. It hit the cement with a _'whump_' and the redhead's expression looked none too impressed.

"Come again?"

"The gold, Cass," Riley explained. "We need buyers. You said you had contacts."

"Oh. Well, yeah. Suppose I do. That don't mean I want to haul around two hundred pounds of gold," she rested one fist on her hip, cocking it to the side. "One, that's too fucking heavy. And two, I might as well paint a fucking bullseye on my forehead. You'll find me in the dumpster and y'know what? I don't feel like dying today."

"I'll go with her," Veronica offered. "We should stop at the Followers when we're done. Get your arm looked at."

Cass looked incredulous. "Now what—" her eyes narrowed. "My arm is fine. It was healed up by the time we made it into that damn Casino. I don't need no doctors poking at me again."

Veronica lifted her hands. "Just a check-up. What if you got some of the Cloud in it and you mutate into a horrible rasping monster with no fashion sense?"

Cass didn't look convinced, but Riley found herself staring at Veronica. She sounded… herself again. She'd been quiet the entire trip back, not saying much more beyond monosyllabic words when addressed. Riley figured that once Dean left their company, she'd perk up again, but it had taken until arriving back in Freeside for her to come out of her shell. It was a start.

"It would make me feel better?" Veronica tried.

Cass eyed her a long moment before her shoulders dipped just a little. "Fine."

Veronica smiled. Cass scowled and turned to Riley.

"And what will you two be off doing while we're doing this I wonder?"

In answer, Riley held her bag out to Boone without looking at him. "He's going with you. I'm doing this one solo."

"Say again?" Cass asked. Boone took her bag silently, a slight frown on his face while Riley pulled her sidearm and checked her stock of ammo.

"Solo," she repeated, holstering the gun again. "It's a simple job, and I'll attract less attention if I work alone. I'll meet you guys at the Mormon Fort once I'm done. Okay?" She turned almost dismissively, craning her neck to look down the street while her companions stood there silently. Finally, Cass swore under her breath.

"Alright," she said. "Fine. Happy hunting."


End file.
